


Consequences

by Ana (Anafandom)



Series: Second Chances [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Civil War Team Iron Man, F/M, Gen, Instrospection, Not Steve Friendly, POV Multiple, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Pro-Accords, Team Cap is full of shit, Team Tony, actions have consequences, not team Cap friendly, steve gets punched in the face
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2018-12-11 22:49:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 74,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11724210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anafandom/pseuds/Ana
Summary: Steve and his team want to save the world. Unfortunately, the world no longer wants them. This time, they will have to face consequences for their actions. That also means facing the people they wronged and their loved ones, including Howard and Maria Stark.Takes place about a month after One Down. Not compliant with Agents of Shield.





	1. Should have stayed in Wakanda

**Author's Note:**

> FINALLY! Here it is, guys. Three months and 66k words later, the promised confrontation sequel. This time we get to see Steve and others. Unlike previous installments, this one has multiple POVs and deals with a lot of people. 
> 
> I was going to post chapter 9 of Reckoning before this, but I couldn't really concentrate on in until I finished this and, having finished, I just had to start posting it before I began second-guessing myself too much. I hope it lives up to expectations. Let me know what you think. And thanks again for all the support.
> 
> Updates will be every 3-4 days, possibly interspersed with chapters of Reckoning.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this, Steve thought as the dust settled. There was debris all around him and people screaming in terror and pain. Men with guns were running away, jumping over the bodies littering the ground. Steve looked around for his team and found Clint staggering to his feet further up what was left of the street. He couldn’t see the others.

There was a wailing sound in the distance and flashing lights. An ambulance, maybe. It was about time.

A man was trying to help a woman crushed by a concrete slab. Steve went over to help only to see both recoiling from him in fear. “It’s okay, I’m here to help you.”

The woman only screamed louder while the man tried to get in front of her, as if to protect her. From him? The man hissed something at him, pain and anger lacing his voice, but Steve didn’t understand the language.

“Cap.” It was Clint, coming closer. He was limping. “We have to go.”

“What?”

The man was sitting with the woman now, trying to calm her down. There were tears tracks washing the dirt from her face. Steve took a step closer to them and the man yelled again, taking up a poor fighting stance.

“Cap, come on, we gotta go, before the police gets here. We’re wanted fugitives, remember?” Clint said, tugging on his arm. “Come on, we gotta find the others.”

With a last apologetic look at the couple, Steve allowed himself to be lead away. “Sam? Wanda? Can you hear me?” he said into the comm. There was no response. Damn.

“I’ve already tried, I think the comms are fried. Fucking shitty cobbled together tech,” Clint muttered angrily. Scott had tried his best to put together the stuff they needed, but it was clearly a patch job. Damn, Steve missed decent equipment.

They didn’t get far before spotting the police vehicles coming their way. With no time to search for the others in the chaos, Steve and Clint had to make a run for it. They headed for the jet they’d borrowed from Wakanda, hoping the others would know to meet them there.

It wasn’t supposed to go this way.

*****

_The day before_

“Goddammit!” Clint exclaimed for the tenth time, cursing under his breath.

“Nothing?” Sam asked.

“What the hell do you think?!”

“Clint, calm down,” Steve said before a fight broke out.

“Fuck you, Steve.”

Steve tried not to let it bother him. Clint was upset, so he was lashing out, it was understandable. He’d already learned that it was better to just let the archer vent when he got like this.

“Well, you can try again later,” Scott said, not sounding particularly bothered by it.

Clint narrowed his eyes and started another round of cursing. He’d been trying to contact Natasha for several months, using all their old radio channels or whatever they were, with no luck so far. Nat had dropped off the face of the Earth as far as any of them could tell. She wasn’t with Tony or in prison, that much they knew, but that was about it. They didn’t even know if she was alive, though Steve found it hard to believe that someone could have taken her out. Still, not knowing was frustrating, especially to Clint, who’d known her longer.

It had been difficult, these past months of forced inactivity. Steve had expected that the Accords would have blown over quickly once people realized how restrictive and dangerous they were, and that they would be able to go back home, back to being Avengers, soon. It hadn’t happened. After getting the rest of his team out of the Raft, they had come back to Wakanda to regroup and then… they’d just stayed. At first it had been fine, a little breathing room as they waited for the Wakandan doctors to fix Bucky and for the worst of the media frenzy to die down. But Bucky was still in cryo (the doctors kept saying they were working on a cure) and the media was still on the Accords side. Steve had stopped watching TV months ago, tired of the vitriol against him and his friends from people who had no understanding of what had really happened, who didn’t seem to grasp that the Avengers were there to protect them.

Then Sam had told them that the Avengers were back in business: Tony, Rhodes, Vision, Bruce and Hope van Dyne with a suit similar to Scott’s. Scott had taken that pretty hard, and for a long time he had stayed in his room and refused to have anything to do with the rest of them. He was still distant and hardly spent any time with them anymore.

Steve had expected that the “New Avengers” wouldn’t last, that Tony wouldn’t be able to keep them going without the rest of them there to get things done, but so far he seemed to be holding on. Steve had waited for Tony to call, carrying the phone with him for weeks after that, only to be disappointed with the continuing silence.

“We need to do something, we can’t just stay here forever,” Wanda said, for what was probably the hundredth time. She was constantly demanding they do something, though she had yet to provide a single suggestion as to what exactly it was that they should do.

“Like what?” Clint was still spoiling for a fight. “Christ, what I wouldn’t give for an alien invasion… Then people would be begging for us to go back and save their asses.”

“There must be some people out there who need saving,” Wanda said.

“And how are we supposed to help anyone when we can’t _leave_?” Scott asked, expression neutral. At first he’d been all joking and smiles, now it was like he didn’t care about anything.

“We can leave,” Wanda countered. “I refuse to be a prisoner again. If I want to leave, I will, and no one can stop me.”

Scott shook his head. “Yeah? You do that and you’ll be going straight back to prison, and not a nice one like this.”

“Guys,” Steve interjected, tired of all this bickering.

“Wanda has a point, though. We fought against the Accords so we wouldn’t get caught in red tape, and now we’re just sitting here doing nothing. We have to show the world that we’re still fighting for them,” Sam said crossing his arms. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m sick of doing nothing. We thought things would work out on their own, but they didn’t, so we’ll have to be more proactive.”

Clint and Wanda agreed, so they started making plans. They didn’t have much in the way of equipment because T’Challa had refused to give them much beyond what they had in their rooms, so Clint asked Scott if he might be able to get them working comms with what little they had, since he was supposed to be an engineer. Scott grumbled, but said he’d try. Steve remembered where the jet they’d used to get to the Raft was, they could use that to get where they needed to go. He wasn’t really keen on leaving Bucky, though. He thought about asking the doctors to bring his friend out of cryo so he could go with them, but Bucky was missing an arm and might end up getting hurt. Steve hadn’t gone to all that trouble of saving him to let him get hurt because he wasn’t in top shape. Still, he’d speak to the doctors again about speeding things up, it had been _months_.

As luck would have it, the very next day they saw a news report about what looked like a hostage situation in Uganda, which was practically next door (to Steve, it seemed like a sign). It was difficult to understand what was going on, because the reporter was speaking the Wakandan language, which none of them knew. Still, the images were pretty clear that there was an armed conflict and that civilians were in danger.

“All right, guys, suit up and let’s go.”

Everyone but Scott left immediately, hurrying to their rooms to get their gear.

“Scott?” Steve asked, wondering what the problem was.

“For the record, I think this is a terrible idea. And I’m not going.”

“What? Why not?”

Scott didn’t answer, just turned his back and walked away.

Steve opened his mouth to call him back and make him explain himself, then changed his mind. He could still see the explosions on TV. People needed them, there was no time for this. He’d speak to Scott later.

Getting to the jet was a bit more complicated than anticipated, however. There were guards outside the hangar and they didn’t want to let them through. Before Steve could even think of a way to take them down without too much damage, Wanda used her powers to knock them all out with a wave of her hand and urged them on. “We’re leaving now and no one is going to stop us.”

Steve looked at the men on the ground, some twitching slightly. He checked the nearest one and found him breathing, so he figured they’d be all right. Wanda wouldn’t seriously hurt them, and they _were_ in a hurry.

Clint took the controls and blasted through the doors to get them on the air.

“Clint! Why did you do that?” Steve asked.

“The doors weren’t gonna open themselves, you know, and it’s not like we have the codes.”

“Still…” It didn’t seem right. T’Challa wasn’t gonna be happy when they got back. Steve could only hope Bucky would be safe.

The jet had stealth capabilities, so they got to Uganda undetected quickly enough. After a short survey of the terrain, they found a place to leave the jet that wasn’t very far from where the terrorists were attacking.

“All right, guys, let’s go.”

There was chaos at the scene, bombs and people running for cover. A group of armed people were firing on a building. Steve gestured to his friends and dove in, knocking the gun out of the hands of one of them and taking two more down before they knew what was happening.

“Cap, get down,” Sam yelled and Steve did so just as an array of bullets passed over his head from another group of armed people. Without his shield he had no way of reaching them from a distance, so he had no choice but to retreat. He dodged and then went back to engage the terrorists once the others had taken care of his attackers. He saw Clint firing arrows at yet another group of armed men while Wanda tossed people aside with her powers. Sam swept overhead taking down people and calling out that more were coming.

A series of bombs hit the ground nearby and he lost track of the others, scrambling for cover. The bombs and shooting didn’t let up, he couldn’t see anything or make sense of what was going on for what felt like an eternity. “Sam? Sam, where are you? What’s going on?”

Another explosion, louder than the others, rocked the ground and Steve fell. His ears were ringing and he couldn’t see anything through the dust and smoke. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

*****

“Now what?” Clint asked as they hid behind some cars. The jet was still too far and there were way too many people and police cars around.

“We need to find Sam and Wanda. We can’t leave them here. They might be hurt.” This wasn’t supposed to happen, dammit. They were here to help people, to show the world that the Avengers – the _real_ Avengers – were still fighting for them.

“We have no idea where they might be, and if we don’t get a move on we’ll end up in a cell. Again. We need to get to the jet. Now.”

“Okay, okay.”

They didn’t make it. The jet was surrounded and they were spotted. The officers shouted at them and Clint fired a small explosive arrow to give them some cover to get away. They ran.

Hours later, cramped in a small house and barely daring to breathe, Steve began to think coming here had been a bad idea. They should have stayed in Wakanda. He hoped Sam and Wanda were okay.

*****

Sam woke with a groan. He tried to move and found his arms were restrained. Shit. He looked around. He seemed to be in a hospital room, handcuffed to a bed. He was dressed in nondescript gray pants and a shirt with hospital shoes. His Falcon gear was gone and he was alone. Damn, this was not good. Where were the others?

“Hey! Hey, get me out of here.”

The door opened and a black man in a white coat came in, standing at a reasonable distance.

“Where am I? What’s going on?”

“No English,” the man said, and made a note on the chart he was holding. Then he turned around and left again.

“Hey! Hey!” Sam tried to free his hands to no avail. Great. He hoped the others had gotten away at least.

It was hard to tell how much time had passed when the door opened again. This time the person was familiar. Rhodes. There were three uniformed men with him.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Rhodes said, not a trace of warmth in his voice. “You are under arrest. You are going to be uncuffed from the bed and then cuffed again to get to the jet that will take you back to the US for trial. If you resist, we are authorized to use whatever force is necessary to ensure your capture. So it will be in your best interest to cooperate. I’m also required to say that you have the right to remain silent and anything you say may be used against you in court. Is that understood?”

Sam swallowed. Rhodes looked deadly serious. The three guards had guns and what looked like tasers and certainly seemed like they wouldn’t mind using them.

“Where are the others?” he asked eventually.

“Don’t worry, you’ll see them soon enough in prison.”

Shit. “You can’t do that. Have you really sold out, man?”

Rhodes gave him a look of such contempt that Sam recoiled a little. He gestured to the guards, who came closer to unlock the handcuffs. Rhodes drew a gun and pointed it at him, arm steady and eyes glued on Sam. Once his hands were re-cuffed, the guards took up position on either side and behind him and motioned for him to start walking. Rhodes was still holding the gun in position.

Yeah, Sam was screwed. They should have stayed in Wakanda.

*****

Wanda got up slowly, trying to focus past the pain in her head. What had happened? There were shouts and flashing lights all around her, making her headache even worse. Someone pointed at her and yelled something in a language she didn’t understand. Soon there were guns pointed at her, a lot of guns. Stupid people, did they really think they had any chance against her? Though it was hard to concentrate, she managed to gather her power and send all the people around her crashing down. She would not be captured again.

As she walked people ran away from her in fear. It annoyed her, but she let it go. She couldn’t control other people’s fear, only her own, she repeated to herself. She’d come here to help and people pointed guns at her, how was that fair? Not seeing the others anywhere, she decided to get back to the jet and wait for them there. She hadn’t gotten far when she felt something pierce the skin on her arm. A dart. She turned around, red mist gathering around her hands, but the world faded away before she could do anything to defend herself.

When she woke up she was in a cell with her hands bound behind her back. She felt woozy and slightly sick, like when she used to wake up after the experiments Hydra did on her. Back then she’d had Pietro by her side to tell her everything was going to be okay, now she had nothing. There was no one around. She started to struggle to get free, but the cuffs were too tight and she couldn’t summon her power. No, she didn’t want to go back to prison. She couldn’t.

“Miss Maximoff.”

Wanda looked up and sighed in relief when she saw Vision.

“Viz. Help me. Get me out of here.”

He inclined his head a bit to the side and studied her. “I’m afraid that will not be possible. You are under arrest. I am here to escort you to the jet that will transport you to the United States for your trial.”

“No, you can’t. Viz, please. Please.” She could feel tears gathering and didn’t bother to hide them. “Don’t send me back to that terrible place, Viz.”

“I am sorry Miss Maximoff, but you have broken multiple laws and harmed countless innocent people. You must be held accountable for your actions.” There was none of the friendliness he’d displayed towards her now, only a cold stare.

“Viz… Please…”

Steve would come for her, wouldn’t he? He had to.

Vision opened the door and stepped inside as she cowered back. It was only then that she saw he was holding that awful collar.

“No! NO!” She tried to kick him, but he overpowered her easily. The collar made a clicking sound as it fastened around her neck and she began to cry in earnest. No. No. All she’d wanted was to be free. She just wanted to be free…

Vision said nothing further as he practically carried her out of the cell and into a black car, ignoring her sobs and pleading. She should not have left Wakanda. At least there she didn’t have this blasted collar around her neck like a rabid dog.

*****

Night had fallen when Steve and Clint judged it safe to leave their hiding place, though they kept to the shadows and looked around warily for any signs of pursuit.

“So now what?” Clint whispered, speaking for the first time in what felt like hours (it probably was).

“We need to find out where the others are and get them out.”

“Oh, that’s brilliant, Cap. How exactly do you propose we do that? We don’t know where we are, we don’t have any money and we don’t speak the language. And I’m pretty sure we’ll be recognized pretty easily the second we’re spotted. We don’t exactly blend in, in case you didn’t notice.”

Steve gritted his teeth and didn’t respond. Clint was angry and frustrated, as was he. And yeah, they needed a plan, but harping on and complaining wasn’t helping anything.

It had seemed so easy when they talked about it back in Wakanda. Came here, save the day, show the world they were still here. How had it gone so wrong so quickly?

“We’ll think of something,” he eventually said.

They started walking again. Maybe they could find a car to borrow, and some place to hole up in as they came up with a plan.

Then they heard a familiar noise coming from behind them. Clint turned, arrow at the ready, but the repulsor blast knocked it out of his hand. Before he could recover, his found his hands and feet bound and he fell to the floor.

“Tony,” Steve said. Damn, this was not gonna be easy. He was really glad Bucky was safe in Wakanda.

Tony had one of his hands out ready to shoot. “You are under arrest. Turn around and put your hands behind your back.”

“Fuck you, Stark,” Clint said from the ground, struggling ineffectively against the cuffs.

“You can’t defeat me, Tony. Just let us go.” Damn it, why couldn’t Tony _understand_?

“I’m not gonna tell you again.”

Steve shifted his stance slightly, preparing to attack, and was promptly knocked on his ass by an invisible force. What the hell? Then the Hulk landed next to him with a roar and looked at him, fists clenched by his side.

“Easy there, big guy.” Tony came closer and put a hand on the Hulk’s arm.

A woman materialized close to Clint and hauled him to his feet. van Dyne. Damn it, he’d forgotten about her. She ignored Clint’s cursing and dragged him away with a nod to Tony and the Hulk.

“Now, Cap,” Tony said, faceplate still down. “You can come quietly or green bean here can carry you; conscious or unconscious – it’s all the same to us. Which do you prefer?”

Hulk growled and gave Steve a rather nasty smile. It still baffled him how Bruce of all people could support the Accords, considering Ross was behind them. He could still hear Clint’s voice cursing and using some really appalling language. His friends were counting on him to keep them safe – he couldn’t let them down. As fast as he could, he threw a handful of dirt at the Hulk’s face and launched himself at Tony, going straight for the Arc Reactor to disable the suit. Unfortunately, he wasn’t fast enough and Tony managed to dodge his attack. Then a green fist connected with his head and everything went dark.

*****

Rhodey gave the pilot the go ahead and went back to the cargo area to check on the prisoners. Rogers was still knocked out, slumped into the seat with a huge bruise on his face. Rhodey smiled to himself in satisfaction and made sure the especially reinforced restraints were secure. Next to him, Wanda was staring off into space with tear-filled eyes, the power suppressing collar snug around her neck and her hands bound in front of her. She looked pretty pathetic. On the other side, Clint was glaring murder at him, voice muffled behind the tape. Hope had gotten tired of his constant stream of obscenities and had gagged him with duct tape, for which Rhodey was grateful. He’d probably have ended up decking the asshole if he had to listen to him for more than a minute. Every now and then he tried to free himself, but so far he’d only succeeded in scrapping his wrist raw. Well, that wasn’t Rhodey’s problem – he had made sure to not touch any of them so they couldn’t complain of mistreatment later, not that they’d have much of a leg to stand on on that. Sam was sitting quietly, apparently lost in thought. Rhodey had refused to say a word to him beyond what he had to, too disgusted with his fellow air force officer (soon to be dishonorably discharged). He’d made no secret of his feelings though, looking at him with as much disdain as he could. It seemed to have had some effect – at least it had shut him up.

Satisfied that all was as it should be, Rhodey took a seat next to Hope. Tony had stayed behind to deal with the local officials and sort out the bureaucracy with the Accords Panel while Vision and Bruce flew back on another jet.

It was good to know it was finally over, that the fugitives had finally been caught and would be going to prison where they belonged. Scott Lang had already surrendered himself and was on his way to the US – apparently he’d been smart enough not to get involved in whatever those idiots had been trying to do in Uganda. The only one left was Barnes, and they now knew where he was: Wakanda, of all places. King T’Challa was going to have a lot to answer for in the next few days. Rhodey would pity the man more if he hadn’t decided to harbor murderers and traitors within his borders for some crazy reason.

Tony had suspected they’d been there the whole time, apparently, but hadn’t wanted to start a diplomatic incident by making accusations without evidence. Once the Ugandan authorities had secured the jet the former Avengers had arrived in – clearly Wakandan technology –, however, that cat had gotten out of the bag, and now King T’Challa would have a lot of explaining to do.

His phone beeped with an incoming text. _Have they been caught?_

_Yes,_ he replied. _We’re on our way back_. Rhodey could just about imagine the look of satisfaction on Howard Stark’s face. Yeah, Rogers and his buddies should have stayed in Wakanda.


	2. Big Trouble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for all the kudos and comments. :) Hope you enjoy.

The flight took several hours to reach its destination. They were given food and water but little information about what was going to happen. Despite Rhodes’s words, Sam was half expecting to go back to the Raft, and tensed when they landed. He could see that Clint was planning to make things difficult; his bound hands seemed to be itching to hit something. Frankly, Sam was tired of Clint’s attitude and ever-present anger. He wasn’t the only one who’d lost things, but they had been fighting for the greater good (even if a little voice in his head kept questioning that as the months had passed and things had settled _with_ the Accords in place).

Rhodes and van Dyne stood at the ready along with the other armed guards, all of them watching Sam’s team warily. It was good to see that Rhodes had recovered from his fall after all – that had given Sam quite a few nightmares.

“All right, let’s go. And just to make it clear again, if you try to escape we are authorized to use whatever force we deem necessary,” Rhodes said. He looked liked he would really love using more force than he already had. Sam was disappointed in him, selling himself out like this – he’d actually admired Rhodes before all this (while also envying him), but he turned out to be nothing but the government and Stark’s lapdog.

One of the guards took Clint, yanking him to his feet none too gently. He was probably still cursing behind the gag (and Sam was actually glad they’d put it on him, he didn’t think he could stand listening to the man rant anymore). Clint tried to headbutt the guard, but the man just dodged and pushed him forward, making him lose his balance and end up in the arms of another guard. The two guards took an arm each and all but dragged Clint down the ramp, since the restraints on his feet made it hard for him to walk. Sam clenched his teeth but said nothing.

van Dyne got Wanda, who still had that vacant look. Unlike the rest of them, her feet were free, only her hands cuffed. They probably didn’t think she was much of a danger with that awful thing on her neck. Bastards. She offered no resistance, just followed meekly.

Cap was just starting to come around – what the hell had they _done_ to him to knock him out like that? – and Rhodes and the other guards waited until he’d gotten his bearings to speak to him.

“Rogers. You are under arrest. Don’t make things any harder for yourself and come quietly.”

Steve looked around, taking in the guards and the plane. His eyes locked with Sam’s, though he still seemed a little dazed. “Where’s Clint? Wanda? Sam, are you okay?”

“The gang’s all here, Rogers. Barton and Maximoff have just stepped outside. You’ll have a chance to catch up as you all wait in your cells.” Rhodes’s voice was steel and there was more than contempt in his expression as he stared Steve down – there was hatred and barely leashed fury. Sam didn’t understand. Couldn’t Rhodes see that they’d been fighting _for_ the Avengers? His anger seemed rather disproportional. “And in case you’re thinking of resisting, again, I’ll remind you that the Hulk is still here. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind knocking your ass down. Again.”

The _Hulk_ had attacked Steve? Jesus, were they insane? Steve might be a super soldier, but the Hulk? He could have been killed. What had they been thinking?

Steve said nothing as he got to his feet and shuffled forward awkwardly, two guards flanking him. They looked disgusted, though it was hard to tell with what exactly.

Finally, Rhodes released Sam from his seat and motioned for him to follow. Sam complied. He didn’t really have much of a choice.

*****

They were taken to holding cells with bars, like common criminals, escorted by the so-called New Avengers except Tony, who was nowhere to be seen. Steve fervently hoped he hadn’t gone after Bucky. T’Challa had promised that no one would get him there, but… Damn. Steve wanted to ask, but he didn’t want to tell them anything about his friend in case they didn’t know about him. This was not the way things were supposed to go.

Each of them got a separate cell, Steve and Clint on one side, Sam and Wanda on the other. No one took the cuffs off of them, so their movements were constrained. Steve surreptitiously tested the strength of the bonds and found them pretty unyielding. Without his shield it would be hard to get out of them. Well, they would just have to wait for an opportunity.

“A public defender will come by shortly to explain the charges against you and advise you of your rights. If you wish to make other arrangements for legal representation you can tell him or her and we will contact them,” Rhodes told them.

Oh, so now they got lawyers, Steve thought. When he’d mentioned it in Berlin that little bureaucratic weasel had laughed in his face.

“Mr Wilson,” Rhodes turned to Sam. “A representative from the Air Force will also be by soon to present the Air Force’s charges against you.”

Sam paled and Steve clenched his teeth. “What charges?”

“I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough, but I imagine they’ll include theft of Air Force property, aiding terrorists and treason. They might even charge you with actual terrorism after yesterday’s events.” He shrugged, as if it was no big deal, while Sam looked terrible.

 _Goddammit_! That wasn’t fair. Sam had done the right thing! “You can’t do that.”

“ _I_ ’m not doing anything, Rogers. The Air Force has rules of conduct, in case you weren’t aware. And when you break them, you have to face the consequences.”

With that he gestured for the others and everyone just walked away, leaving them there.

Steve tried to catch Sam’s eye, but the other was sitting on his bunk facing the wall. “Sam. Sam!” No response. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“Wow, is that the best you can do, Cap?” Clint snarled from the cell next door. “We’re all screwed, Steve, don’t you get it? I’m never gonna see my family again and it’s your fault.” (He’d been gagged before getting to the cells; Steve kinda wished they had left it there.)

“It’s not my fault. We did the right thing, and once we explain, talk to people, tell them what’s really going on, I’m sure they’ll understand and they’ll let us go.” He made himself sound as confident as he could, to give the others a much needed morale boost. They would not be defeated by stupid paper-pushers and evil government agents. They’d defeated aliens and Hydra and Ultron. They were the Avengers, and they would win, because that was what heroes did.

(Right?)

*****

The door to the interrogation room opened and Scott looked up at Hope. He hadn’t seen her in nearly a year; except on television, of course. Her hair was longer and she was wearing the Wasp suit. She didn’t seem happy to see him, not that he blamed her. God, he’d been such an idiot.

“Hi, Hope,” he said, trying to sound cheerful, but her glare only intensified. “I’m sorry.”

“You should be,” she replied, not thawing out at all. “You are going back to prison, Scott.” She shook her head. “You threw your life away. What were you _thinking_?”

Scott lowered his head in shame. He’d had some time to think there in Wakanda, and he’d realized that he’d been really stupid to just jump on a plane with a bunch of strangers to become a criminal. Not that he had realized that at the time, obviously, but then, he hadn’t exactly asked a lot of questions, had he? Captain America had called and he’d gone running, anxious to prove himself a hero, someone important. Someone who could save the world and make his daughter proud. Instead, he’d gotten in way over his head and had been regretting his stupidity and impulsiveness ever since.

After they’d gotten out of (escaped from) the Raft, Scott had thought (naively), that things would work out. Cap had been sure that the world would realize its mistake in branding them criminals and everything would go back to normal, that they’d be welcomed back with open arms soon enough. Well, that hadn’t happened. Quite the contrary. Whenever Scott turned on the news (mostly CNN, as he didn’t understand the rest), it only ever said negative things about them. And after Hope had officially joined the New Avengers – denouncing him as a thief and a criminal at the same time – Scott had known, without a doubt, that he’d fucked up.

He’d thought about turning himself in for a long time, but he didn’t know how to do that without compromising the others’ location. And he might be an idiot and a fool, but he wasn’t a snitch. So he’d had no choice except wait and hope something would happen and they wouldn’t spend the rest of their lives in a Wakandan prison (the others might not have noticed, but they _were_ prisoners there – a nice and luxurious prison, but a prison nevertheless). The more restless they got, the more Scott worried that they’d do something stupid, and he’d already decided that he’d have no further part in any of it. He might not have known much of what was going on when he boarded that plane to Germany, but that was no longer the case. So when they decided to butt in on a situation they knew nothing about, Scott refused to join them. And he hadn’t really done much with the comms, uncomfortable with what they seemed to be planning. He’d then surrendered himself and told the King where they were going and all he knew of their plans, worried about what might happen. It wasn’t snitching, he’d told himself; they had hurt the guards – innocent people, people who were only doing their jobs – for no good reason, and he had an obligation to tell the truth, to prevent even more violence.

Now he would be dealing with the Accords Panel people – the ones that were pure evil if one was to believe Cap – and would, as he’d expected, be shipped back to prison. Well, at least now he’d be able to contact Maggie and Cassie. He doubted Maggie would let him talk to Cassie – and this time he couldn’t really blame her – but at least he’d have the _possibility_ of speaking to her, which was a lot more than he’d had these past months.

“I’m sorry, Hope,” he said again. He was, really. And not just because now he was in a world of trouble.

*****

Sam was still reeling from Rhodes’s words when the big wigs arrived, all looking somber and unfriendly. They introduced themselves but Sam wasn’t paying much attention, the words ‘treason’ and ‘terrorist’ still echoing in his head. He wasn’t a terrorist, and he hadn’t committed treason. He’d never do that. He had fought for the right thing, for the Avengers. Hadn’t he? (The little voice in his head was getting louder, telling him he’d been a bit of an idiot. He tried to ignore it.)

One of the men said he was from the UN Accords Panel, and read a rather impressive list of their alleged crimes, one at a time. There were so many that Sam couldn’t keep track of them all. Wanda was charged with assault on Vision and destruction of private property (the former Avengers Compound). Sam hadn’t known anything about that. Wanda had attacked Vision? It didn’t seem right, though she didn’t deny it (not that it would do her much good, these people were obviously out to get them). She was also charged with several counts of assault and murder, which seemed really excessive and to which Steve objected – and was summarily ignored. Clint was charged with assault and destruction of property. Sam himself was charged with assault, destruction of property, reckless endangerment and criminally negligent homicide, which made him balk. Homicide! That wasn’t right.

“Three officers were killed when you, Mr Rogers and Mr Barnes fled from the authorities in Bucharest, as well as four civilians due to the collapse of the tunnel,” the man replied, eying him as if he was a disgusting bug. Sam cringed back in his cell. But… he hadn’t touched anyone. It wasn’t his fault… they were going to kill Bucky, Cap’s friend, an innocent man (not, the little voice told him, that they had known that at the time though. He could have been guilty of the bomb. _Shit_.) “And that’s not counting the people who died in Uganda.”

Cap was charged with the same, plus resisting arrest and the attempted murder of Tony Stark.

“That’s ridiculous,” Clint said. “Stark is the one who tried to kill _him_!”

Steve said nothing to that, just stood there with his chin up, as if their lives weren’t about to end. Sam wanted to know what he was thinking, how he planned to get them out of this, ‘cause he didn’t think just talking was going to cut it. It was becoming more and more evident that things were pretty damn dire for them, and no one seemed particularly inclined to remember that they were heroes who had saved the world.

When the lawyer had finished, the woman explained what would happen to them now: they would be transferred to another facility in New York to await trial. Wanda might be deported back to Sokovia to carry out her sentence there.

“She hasn’t even been convicted yet,” Clint yelled. “You fuckers, look at what you’ve done to her!”

Sam couldn’t see Wanda but imagined she looked as terrible as she’d done on the plane.

“I don’t think there will be any doubt of her – or any of your – guilt. We have ample evidence of your criminal behavior. But she – and you – will still have the chance to present your defense,” she told Clint, unfazed by his hostility. “Do you wish us to contact anyone in particular to represent you or are you satisfied with a public defender?”

“I want to talk to my wife,” Clint said.

“She will be notified of your request. And in regards to your defense?”

Sam didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know any lawyers outside the few guys in the Air Force he’d spoken with on occasion – and who were unlikely to be much help now. But the Avengers had lawyers, right? “Don’t the Avengers have a legal team?” he asked, more timidly than he’d intended.

“They do indeed,” the woman answered. “However, as none of you are Avengers any longer, I doubt they will help you.” She paused, as if to let that sink in, then continued. “Well, think it over and let someone know of your decision.”

Clint started cursing again and Sam tuned him out. Shit, they were in really big trouble.

*****

Steve didn’t understand what was happening, how any of this could _be_ happening. The public defender guy was talking, explaining the charges, but Steve wasn’t really listening. None of this made any sense. They were the good guys, why were they being treated like criminals? Why couldn’t people see that the Accords were a terrible idea? That they just wanted to control the Avengers, to make them the government’s attack dogs? That they’d threatened Bucky, an innocent man, and would have killed him? It wasn’t right. It just wasn’t right. None of this should be happening.

On top of all that, now Steve had no information about Bucky, and couldn’t ask. What if they found out where he was? What if they sent a squad to kill him? He wouldn’t even have a chance to defend himself. He should never have left his friend behind. At least if he was here, Steve would be able to _do_ something to help him, to keep him safe. Bucky was all he had left of the past, he would _not_ let him get hurt.

The worry was eating him up, and he couldn’t even pace to relieve some of the tension because of those damn restraints. Why were they still on, anyway? They were already locked up, there was no need for them. He could barely move, damn it. It was probably that ass Ross’s orders. Steve would bet he would be coming by soon to gloat.

“Are these really necessary?” he asked, interrupting whatever the young lawyer was talking about, raising his hands to show the stupid cuffs. His head was still ringing a bit from the punch from the Hulk.

The lawyer blinked. “I’ll see what I can do about that.” And then he continued to drone on about… something. God, Steve wanted to punch someone and get the hell out of this ridiculous cell.

 _Hmm, we’re going to be transferred somewhere else_ … It would be their chance to escape. It was clear that reasoning with these people wouldn’t work, they were too blinded by government propaganda to realize what was really going on. The others were counting on him to get them out of this mess. Yeah, a plan began to form on his mind.

*****

Wanda watched dispassionately as a female guard came into her cell and took her handcuffs off, backing away immediately and relocking the door. The woman was scared, obviously. Everyone was always scared. She remembered the people on TV after Lagos, calling her a monster and a murderer. It wasn’t fair. She had been trying to help. If she hadn’t done what she did even more people would have died, why couldn’t anyone see that? Steve was the only one who understood, who had told her she’d done her best – and wasn’t that all that anyone could do? It wasn’t fair. And then Stark had locked her up, sending her to her room as if she was a misbehaving child. She felt bad about hurting Vision, but he wouldn’t let her leave. Why couldn’t he understand? She just wanted to be left alone.

The horrible collar was chafing against her neck and she tried to loosen it now that her hands were free, struggling to call up her powers to no avail. She was trapped. What would happen to her now? Would she end up back in that awful prison, with the collar and the straight jacket? No, the lawyer said she’d go back to Sokovia, didn’t he? Would that be better or worse? Sokovia wasn’t her home anymore – it hadn’t been, really, since her parents had died. Now, without Pietro… There was nothing for her there. There was nothing for her anywhere, really. She’d thought being an Avenger, doing good things and honoring Pietro’s memory – he’d died a hero – would make things better, but it hadn’t. Nothing could ever be okay again, she should have known that when she lost her brother. It had only ever been the two of them. They’d come into the world together and they should have left it together. Now she was all alone, no family and no home, and even her freedom and her powers had been taken away. It wasn’t fair.

“Wanda.”

It was Steve, waving at her from his cell. His hands and feet were bare now, same as Clint’s. The guards had left, taking those horrible cuffs with them. But she still had the collar around her neck. It wasn’t fair.

“Wanda, are you okay?”

She tried to focus, rubbing compulsively at her neck where the collar touched her skin. She couldn’t get it out. “Please get this thing off, Steve. Please.”

“I will, Wanda, I will, I promise.” He sounded sincere, as he always did, but she wasn’t sure she believed him. He’d said it would be all right before, that they would be able to go back home soon, and it had been a lie. Months and months had passed and they didn’t get any closer to going home, and now she didn’t have a home anymore. He’d said going to Uganda to help those people would be a first step in proving themselves, and _that_ turned out to be a lie too. How could she believe him now?

“You got a plan, Cap?” Clint was pacing like a caged animal in his cell – they were all being treated like animals. Why? They had only wanted to help people. It wasn’t fair.

“We’re gonna get out of here, okay? Re-group.”

“Steve, I don’t think that’s a good idea. We’re already in enough trouble as it is. We leave and they’re gonna hunt us down. We’ll never be able to get away.” Wanda couldn’t see Sam, but he sounded tired. Defeated. They’d taken his Falcon gear away. Like her, he was useless now.

Clint huffed. “Way to be a downer, Sam. I don’t know about you, but I’m not gonna spend the rest of my days in prison, no fucking way. I’m with you, Cap.”

“Thanks, Clint. Wanda?”

“Okay, Steve.” What could she do without her powers, though? She wasn’t trained in combat like Steve, Clint and Sam. Again she tugged at the collar, snarling in pain and frustration.

“Don’t worry, Wanda, we’ll protect you.”

They spent the whole day in the cells with nothing to do but stare at the walls and wonder what would happen next. They got food and water and that was it. The next morning they waited for the guards to come and take them somewhere else, another cell in another prison.

Sam was let out first, cuffed again and lead away by three armed guards. Wanda could see Steve watching them intently, waiting for his chance, but the rest of them were ignored.

“Hey! Where are you taking him? Hey!” Clint yelled. No one said anything, not even Sam. He disappeared through the door.

Steve clenched his hands and tried to bend the bars on his cell.

“Step away from the bars, Mr Rogers,” said a voice from nowhere. They all whirled around, looking for the source. Damn, were they being watched?

Ignoring the warning, Steve kept working on the bars and, after some effort, was able to squeeze through. Just as he did, however, armed guards appeared and began shooting some kind of dart at him. Tranquilizers, probably. Steve dodged as well as he could but one hit him. It slowed him down enough for one of the guards to shoot some kind of net over him, which shrank down and immobilized him in seconds. He struggled but couldn’t get free. The guards shot a few more tranq darts at him and waited at a distance until he stopped moving. Vision came and spoke quietly to the guards before hauling Steve away without even looking in Wanda’s direction.

For several minutes Wanda waited, heart in her throat. If Steve hadn’t been able to get away, she wouldn’t have the slightest chance, not without her powers. Clint screamed and cursed across the corridor, just as helpless as she was. It was over, there was nothing she could do. She yanked at the collar again in desperation, tears running down her face, and barely noticed when the guards returned, tranqed Clint and dragged him away.

When they came for her, she didn’t resist. There was no point. At least she walked out on her own two feet.

*****

From the UN’s facility command center, Bruce watched the former Avengers as they were taken to the vehicles waiting outside to appear before the Accords’ Court for their arraignment. Rhodey was on the phone with Tony, who was still in Uganda, trying to piece together that those idiots had been trying to do there (besides sticking their noses in where they didn’t belong). After that Tony would be going to Berlin to talk to the Accords Panel and then to Wakanda to see King T’Challa and find out why the man hadn’t seen fit to inform anyone that he’d had some of the world’s most wanted hanging out in his palace. Considering that Rogers hadn’t seemed to grasp that he wasn’t going anywhere, Bruce and Vision would be following the prisoners to ensure that they wouldn’t try to escape (again). Bruce wasn’t really thrilled with the idea, but Tony had convinced him that the Hulk might be needed (and the other guy was happy enough for the chance to knock Rogers down again). To Bruce’s surprise, the Accords committee had agreed that someone of super human strength should guard the prisoners (thanks to Rogers’ habit of plowing over the people in his way), and as the Hulk was pretty much indestructible, no more lives would be endangered. Vision had volunteered to remain as well; in the unlikely chance that Maximoff managed to regain her powers, he was confident that he would be able to subdue her (no one wanted to chance her using her powers on the Hulk again). Hope was dealing with Scott Lang.

It had been decided that tomorrow morning the prisoners would be taken to Stark Tower’s holding facilities (Tony had converted some space into cells for holding super powered people for just this kind of eventuality) for the duration of the trial. Tony’s security system was top of the line, and the Avengers would be close by in case of trouble. Truthfully, Bruce would prefer to be far away from those people, but it wasn’t his decision. They’d already escaped too many times and caused too much damage not to take every possible precaution.

Rhodey finished his conversation and approached him just as an agent waved Bruce over. It was time to go. “Good luck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, all I know about law is what I learned from Law&Order and similar shows, so I'm making some stuff up. I hope it will be at least somewhat realistic. If not, well, let's call it literary license (it's not like Marvel does a great job with realism either, right?).


	3. Waiting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before we see the rogues get to the Tower, we go back in time a bit to find out what’s been going on with Team Tony up to this point.

Maria sat with eyes glued to the television, staring in horror as the images played one more time: that horrid Rogers attacking Ugandan military officers while the other members of his “team” swooped in throwing punches, arrows and bullets all around with no regard for the people fleeing in terror; the Hydra woman waving her hand and sending people flying in red mist as more people cowered and screamed; Barton sending an exploding arrow at the Ugandan police, who dodged behind cars or, the unlucky ones, were thrown to the ground with enough force to break bones. Below, the running text gave the total tally of the destruction caused: 18 dead and over forty injured in the conflict – and that was _after_ the former Avengers had gotten involved. It also said that it was still unclear why the former Avengers had been in Uganda and why they had attacked official forces and criminals alike.

It was horrible, and Maria was sick with worry over Tony, who was going to be facing those terrible people soon, with the rest of the New Avengers. Her son had assured her that they were more than a match for Rogers and his group, but it hadn’t made Maria feel any better. She kept seeing her boy being attacked by Rogers and the Winter Soldier (the mere thought of _him_ had her heart racing in fear, though she tried hard to push it aside), beaten down and abandoned (Howard had warned her against watching that video, and now she thought she should have listened to him after all). She would not be able to rest until she knew Tony and his friends were safe.

Howard was on the phone with Nick Fury in the other room, and she could hear him yelling in anger every now and then. He hadn’t wanted Tony to go after the rogues, and he and Tony had argued, much like in the old days – though she was sure that now Tony understood that Howard wasn’t angry _at_ him, he was just terrified that Tony would be hurt by those people. Again.

Left to their own devices, Maria and Howard had been going crazy wondering what was happening, even though Friday had promised that she would let them know what was going on, and that she wasn’t going to let anybody hurt her Boss. (It didn’t really make Maria worry any less.)

“Mrs Stark, Ms Potts is here,” Friday announced and turned off the television before the news cycle restarted.

“Maria,” Pepper greeted. She looked tense and on edge, though she tried for a reassuring smile. “I thought you might like some company waiting for news.” _And so would I_ went unsaid but understood.

“Of course, dear. Shall we have some tea?” Having something to do might keep her from fretting herself to death.

“I think I’d rather have something a bit stronger, if it’s all the same to you.”

Maria gave her an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, dear, there’s no alcohol in the house.” She lowered her voice. “Howard, you see.”

“Oh, of course, I understand. Tea will do, then.”

Once the tea was ready, the two of them sat at the kitchen counter in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

“It’s hard, waiting,” Pepper said after a while as she sipped her tea.

Maria nodded. She was still getting used to it, her little boy being all grown up and doing dangerous things while she sat at home, waiting and worrying. Everyone told her that Tony knew what he was doing, that the suit was excellent protection, and that he wasn’t alone, but none of it changed the fact that her son could be getting hurt right now and there was nothing she could do about it.

“I thought that not being… together would make it easier.” Pepper sighed. “It really didn’t. I keep thinking, if I had stayed, would that have changed anything?”

“From what I understood, that stupid man never liked Tony. I supposed it would have come to blows sooner or later. Seemed like he couldn’t stand to be contradicted, and Tony never bowed down to anyone, even when he was a boy. It got him into a lot of trouble in school. And with his father.”

Pepper grimaced. “I feel terrible that I never realized what a bully Rogers was. I mean, I know that Tony can be… aggravating sometimes, but… he always meant well. I don’t understand how the others couldn’t see that.” She shook her head and hardened her stance. “But now they are going to pay for it. For what they did to Tony and the world.”

“Yes, they will.”

*****

Tony was tired. No, scratch that, he was exhausted. He felt like he’s been awake for ages, though that wasn’t quite true. While a part of him was glad Rogers and his buddies had finally been caught, another part just didn’t want to have to deal with them anymore. He just wanted them to be someone else’s problem, so he could go home and spend time with his friends and family. He didn’t want to deal with endless meetings about what to do with them, listen to a million people complain about every little thing, or deal with people trying to use this for their own personal gain. And he most certainly didn’t want to have to look at them again, or have to testify in court. He just wanted to go home.

Sadly, he couldn’t. He had an obligation to the Accords Panel and to the public to make sure that everything would be done by the book, with all i’s dotted and all t’s crossed. It was a pain.

Ross (Everett, not Thaddeus, thank god) came over and interrupted whoever Tony was talking to – he was so tired he was having trouble remembering who everyone was. He hardly knew what _this_ meeting was about; it felt like he’d been in meetings forever.

“I’m sorry,” he told whoever, “I must speak with Mr Stark on an urgent matter.”

The man who had been talking – a lawyer from the Accords Panel, maybe – gave them a tight smile. “We’ll speak again later, Mr Stark,” he said.

“Yeah, sure,” Tony said. He had no idea what they had been talking about. God, he desperately wanted a few hours to get some sleep and recharge. Ross took his arm gently and led him from the conference room they were in. Once outside, Tony shook the man’s arm off and leaned against the wall, trying to seem relaxed and casual and not like he was about to drop. “So, what’s up?” _What disaster do I have to deal with now?_ was what he really meant.

“Nothing, I just thought you could use a break.” The look he gave Tony showed he could see right through him. Well, good.

“How long do I have?” he asked. No need to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“I can give you a couple of hours. There’s a room on the 7th floor you can use, number 710. It’s small, but there is a bed in it.” He took a cardkey out of his pocket.

Tony looked at the card and at the hand offering it. With gritted teeth, he reached out and snatched it out of Ross’s hand. “See you in a couple of hours then. Thanks.”

He didn’t wait for a response, just made a bee line for the elevator and got to the room in record time.

“Fri, you there?” he asked, taking his phone out of his pocket and putting it on the small side table near the bed.

“For you, always, Boss.” She sounded a bit too cheerful. Tony wasn’t sure he liked her being so happy at the chance to have the ExVengers under her roof. He’d have to take a talk with her about appropriate behavior. He wouldn’t quite put it past her to be vindictive. But later, he was far too tired to deal with overprotective AIs now.

“Make sure the room is secure and wake me in two hours.”

“Got it, Boss. Don’t worry, I’m keeping an eye on things.”

She was probably keeping an eye on things she shouldn’t, really. But again, too tired to worry about it now. As long as she didn’t start plotting world domination, he could let it go for the moment.

He didn’t even bother to take his shoes off, just dropped on the bed and was out like a light.

When the alarm woke him up he felt slightly better. Not nearly as rested as he wanted, but it would have to do for now.

“Boss, Mr and Mrs Stark have been inquiring about you,” Friday told him while he straightened his clothes as best as he could and tried to look presentable for round one hundred of meetings.

“What time is it there?” Hell, he didn’t even know what time it was _here_. God, he wanted to go home.

“It is 7:30 pm in Berlin, Boss, and 1:30 pm in New York.”

“Okay, make the call.” He really wanted to hear his mom’s voice. And he should probably apologize to his dad about the fight they had.

“Tony?”

“Hi, mom.” Tony leaned back against the bed and closed his eyes. God, he was happy to have her back in his life.

“How are you, honey? You don’t sound very good.”

“I’m okay, just tired. There’s a lot to do.”

“Yeah, I can imagine. But it will be over soon and you’ll be home and we’ll put this whole thing behind us.”

Tony smiled to himself. Yeah, that was exactly what he wanted.

“Tony?” That was Howard. Before Tony had the chance to say anything, his father continued. “I’m sorry about our… disagreement… before. I… handled it badly.”

It was surprising to hear his father say that, though it shouldn’t be. Tony had gotten so used to being blamed for everything that it seemed odd when other people accepted that they too made mistakes. Even his father. He had certainly misjudged the man a lot in the past.

“It’s all right, dad, I didn’t really do so great myself.” Still hearing criticism in everything his father said as an automatic reaction, still too aggressively defensive. And he couldn’t even claim he was a child anymore.

“Well, I just… I was worried.”

“Yeah, I get it. It’s okay, we’re good.”

“You should get some rest, honey,” his mom said, getting back into the conversation now that the apologies were out of the way.

“Actually, I’ve just had a two-hour nap.” Christ, he was old. There was a time when he could have gone three days straight and still been on top of his game (even if he crashed hard for a whole day afterwards).

“How are things going?” Howard asked.

Tony checked his watch again and figured he still had a few minutes to himself, so he filled his parents in on the latest happenings. They gave him encouragement and advice and for a while all was right with the world.

*****

When Howard got the text back from Rhodes that Steve and his friends had been caught and were being brought back for trial, he sighed in relief. Then immediately started pacing in agitation as he realized that he would soon have the chance to confront Steve about his betrayal. There was so much he wanted to say… he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep his anger in check in order to be coherent enough to make that bastard understand in no uncertain terms exactly how badly he’d fucked up.

For now all he could do was wait, satisfied that justice would be done at last.

Information was still trickling in about the rogues and the situation in Uganda. Howard had watched the images in dismay, wondering how he (and everyone else) could ever have believed that Steve deserved the faith they’d placed in him, how he’d ever deserved a leadership position. There didn’t seem to have been any planning in their actions in Uganda. Hell, Howard thought Steve hadn’t even known what he’d walked into. And what on earth he’d expected to accomplish with that, beyond showing the world again how utterly unsuited to this job he was, was still a mystery to him and to the world. The media was even speculating that Captain America was in league with Hydra or some other terrorist organization. Howard was happy to see that the shine of righteousness had faded from Captain America, and the world saw his actions clearly for what they were. Even part of the US press, which had still been somewhat on the fence about ‘Cap’, was having a hard time justifying this latest disaster. Now more than ever people saw why the Accords were necessary. In the few hours since the attack, five new nations had already petitioned to sign the Accords, and the expectation was that that number would rise in the next few days and weeks. Uganda, already a signatory nation, was crying out for the harshest possible punishment for the rogues.

Howard looked at his watch, trying to calculate how long it would still take for the former Avengers to arrive. He’d tried calling Tony, but his son was busy with bureaucratic meetings and couldn’t talk. Howard could only imagine the headache those meetings were likely to be. It was too bad he couldn’t help. While the Accords Panel had been informed of his and Maria’s resurrection – as it had involved both an enhanced person and an alien artifact, which made it the Panel’s jurisdiction – the final decision had been against revealing it to the general public. As such, only the very high-ups were aware of it, so Howard couldn’t march in in the current meetings to give Tony a break or a helping hand. It was annoying.

At least Tony was ok. Howard had been worried – more like terrified, really – about Tony facing Steve again. The Winter Soldier had not been seen in Uganda with the others, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still lurking about somewhere, ready for round two. Despite his best efforts, he had not handled it well and had ended up arguing with Tony, who had taken offence thinking Howard didn’t believe he was capable of standing his ground. Fortunately the others had intervened before things could escalate too much and they had managed to at least understand where the other was coming from. Tony had still gone, arguing – correctly – that he was the leader of the New Avengers and therefore needed for this kind of situation. Banner and Vision had assured Howard (and Maria) that they would not allow either Steve or Maximoff to come near Tony and Howard had relented – not that he’d really had much of a choice. The Hulk had beaten a super-powered alien into the floor, after all; Steve wouldn’t stand a chance. And Vision had been certain he could contain Maximoff long enough to get her into the power suppressing collar; he believed he was immune to her mind manipulation powers.

Howard had already called Fury to make sure the bastard (and the not so dead SHIELD) wouldn’t interfere in handling the rogues (not surprisingly, he did not trust Fury to keep to the agreement they had already made without a reminder). Now all he could do was wait.

God, he hated waiting.

*****

Friday was monitoring all conversations regarding the rogue Avengers (even if she was not technically supposed to be privy to certain things). Those people had hurt Boss, the Colonel, Vision, Dr Banner and Spider-Man, and Friday wasn’t going to give them the slightest opportunity to try again. So far it was all going well.

The discussion in Sokovia was very interesting (and one of the things she wasn’t supposed to be listening to). The high-ups in the government wanted Maximoff’s head on a platter. After Baron von Strucker had been killed and Ultron had tried to destroy the country, Hydra had apparently decided to move camp somewhere else, leaving open several positions of power that were taken up by officially elected (non-terrorist) politicians. There was still a great deal of unrest in the country, but it was slowly putting itself back together – thanks also to a lot of international aid and Boss’s efforts of rebuilding. When news of Lagos and Maximoff’s involvement in it had hit, Sokovians had not been happy. Once again their country was synonym with destruction and terrorist acts. And when footage from the airport fight in Berlin was released (after the rogues had escaped the Raft), public outrage had grown even more. Now, given what had happened in Uganda, the Sokovian government wanted nothing more than to distance themselves from Maximoff and her actions. According to local news (which Friday was legally allowed to access), the majority of the country wanted her executed for her numerous crimes. The high-ups were digging into the records left behind by Hydra to present them as evidence against her as well. There was going to be a massive outcry when those became public.

The Maximoffs had not been involved in many Hydra missions, but there were a few – and some of those included murder. It was unclear from the records who had actually done the killing, whether the Maximoffs or someone else, but at the very least they had been present. Plus Miss Maximoff had used her mind powers to extract information from (that is, torture) Hydra victims. The matter of the twins’ irrational hatred of Boss was also well documented, and given current sentiment towards him, it would certainly not be well received. Yes, Maximoff’s skeletons were about to be shoved out of the closet for all the world to see.

In Wakanda the situation was not good for King T’Challa. UN officials had arrived in the country and were questioning everyone and everything. Friday had learned that during their “escape” (the precise nature of their presence there was still being debated) several palace guards had been injured, apparently by Maximoff. They had also caused damage to the palace when they had stolen the jet to go to Uganda.

The biggest issue at the moment, however, was the fate of the Winter Soldier. It had already been confirmed that he was there, kept in cryogenic suspension at his own request. While that had satisfied some people, it had enraged many others. It was not King T’Challa’s decision to make, they argued. As a signatory nation, Wakanda should have turned over Barnes and the fugitives to the proper UN authorities. Even if the Winter Soldier had not been responsible for the Vienna bombing, he still had numerous crimes to his name, and was still dangerous and unstable. The Wakandan doctors had argued that they had been trying to remove the Hydra conditioning from his mind, but the UN representatives weren’t convinced. Brainwashed or not, he still had to answer for his crimes in a court of law, and Wakanda did not have the right to take matters into their own hands like this, not when the crimes in question had been perpetrated against many different nations over several decades. To say nothing of harboring the others, who had no excuse for their crimes. Needless to say, Wakanda was in a lot of trouble, King T’Challa in particular, since most of these decisions had been made by him alone, without consulting his advisors and without the public’s awareness. Wakandan citizens were not happy with their King.

Over at the Accords Prosecution Department, set up to deal with enhanced criminals who crossed borders, people were working frantically to build an airtight case against the rogues, gathering evidence and compiling lists of possible witness to call on.

Friday had monitored the former fugitives throughout the arraignment while they had just stood there as their crimes were listed and they were told they would be remanded at the Tower for the trial. Rogers had tried to protest, but the judge said they were obviously a flight risk and presented a clear danger to the public. Then they were taken back to their cells.

As far as Friday could tell from her observations through the security cameras, only Wilson seemed to have grasped the severity of the situation they were facing. He had spent the first night curled up in his cell, shaking his head and muttering to himself, a look of resignation on his face, and the second one had been even worse, once he’d actually heard the charges against him. Barton was still cursing at the walls, pacing incessantly every five minutes. Maximoff was sitting in a corner quietly, tugging at the collar every now and then. Rogers was agitated but still composed. He had asked to speak to the Avengers and was ignored. None of them had requested a specific lawyer – likely because they didn’t actually know any – and weren’t actually doing much to help themselves (not that there was much they _could_ do).

Friday was double and triple checking that the cells in the Tower were secure and that the codes could not be broken by anyone in anticipation of having them in the Tower the next day. The adjourning floors had been cleared and all access to those levels were barred except for authorized personnel, which only included the Avengers themselves and a few other select individuals who would be undergoing a rigorous screening process to the best of her ability (which was considerable). In the event of a break out, Friday had been authorized to use gas to subdue the prisoners, as well as all other weapons she had at her disposal. Frankly, she was hoping for a chance to use them.

Now all she could do was wait.

*****

Vision monitored his former teammates in their cells from the UN facility’s control center as he waited for morning, when he would be taking them back to Stark Tower. He paid special attention to Miss Maximoff, curled up in her bed and crying silently. Once, the sight would have made him sad. Once, he had believed she was a friend. Once, he had believed that she might even be more. Now, he watched her and felt nothing. He could not be sorry for her, for she had made her own choices. He had made the mistake of letting his emotions (such difficult things to handle, emotions) _distract_ him, and a friend paid a heavy price. He had sworn to himself that he would not make the same mistake again, and had worked diligently on understanding what had happened with the so-called Civil War and how to manage his own emotional responses to situations. The therapist Tony had found for him had been immensely helpful, though he still struggled with some of the most idiosyncratic human behaviors. He felt more like a part of the world now than he had done while living at the Compound, seeing not only his friends (fellow Avengers), but also interacting more with the general public. Both Tony and Rhodes (and his therapist) had encouraged him to explore the outside, instead of staying shut in like Rogers had done. It wasn’t that Rogers had told Vision he wasn’t allowed to leave (and he had left, though mostly to see Tony), but the former Captain hadn’t really made much effort at engaging with him outside of combat situations, or even seemed very concerned with Vision as a person beyond what he could do in the field. At the time, he hadn’t quite realized that, as he had spent the majority of his time with Miss Maximoff. Looking back on it now, it was clear had he had been isolated within the group, much like Tony had been before. Now, having an example of how a real team (family) should be, the previous situation seemed unbearably lonely. How had he not noticed that?

Movement from one of the monitors caught his eye. Barton was pacing in his cell again, muttering to himself (probably cursing, if previous behavior patterns were any indication). Vision did not bother to turn up the volume; there would be nothing worth hearing. Barton’s behavior had been baffling. When he had arrived at the Compound to “rescue” Miss Maximoff, he had immediately used violence against Vision, even though there had never been any hostility between them. In fact, they had barely known each other. Now he seemed angry at everyone and everything, and Vision did not understand why. He did not understand why the man had abandoned his family to fight a war (was it even a war?) that had very little to do with him. He did not understand why he was so angry that his criminal behavior was being called into question, that there would be consequences to his actions. Shaking his head, Vision turned to the cell across from the archer.

Wilson was sleeping, though it did not seem to be a peaceful one. He kept tossing and turning, occasionally twitching as if in the grips of a nightmare. Vision was not sure what to think of Wilson. During his time at the Compound, the man had mostly ignored him, spending his time with Rogers and Romanoff (he now knew that the three of them had been searching for Barnes in secret), so Vision did not have much opportunity to interact with him. He did, however, remember his arrogant remark when they had discussed the Accords, and found it an odd thing for a reserve member of the military to have said.

Finally, he turned to the cell next to Clint (on the other side from the previous one, whose bars were still bend out of shape), where Steve Rogers was sleeping, now with his wrists cuffed together to prevent further escape attempts. Even after a great deal of therapy, Vision could not say which emotion he felt when he looked at the former Captain. There was anger (hate?), for what the man had done to Tony (Vision remembered finding his friend freezing to death in a Siberian bunker, the Arc Reactor smashed by the shield lying nearby, face pale and breathing labored. It was an image that continued to haunt him). There was disappointment, for he had once thought him a good and just man (though thinking on it now, he could not say precisely _why_ he had thought that, except that it was what everyone said). There was even some fear, for what he had been able to do just by virtue of being thought righteous (no one should ever be above the law). There was also pity, for it was now clear Rogers did not understand the world any more than Vision had done, at first, and had perhaps clung to the past too tenaciously because of it (though he, like Vision, had been given a chance to find his place and did not seem to have been very successful at it).

Regardless of what Vision felt, all the former Avengers would have to accept that they had caused harm to people and to the world. Soon, they would have to _hear_ the world they had ignored.


	4. Not fit

A loud noise startled him awake and Steve jumped from the bed, automatically falling into an awkward fighting stance (damn the stupid cuffs) and taking in his surroundings. He was in a cell. Right, the damn Accords. There were armed guards right outside, banging on the cell bars to wake everyone.

“Wakey-wakey, guys,” one of the guards said. “Time for you to go to your new digs. Well, at least until you end up in a proper prison.” The last was said in a mocking tone and Steve frowned. Were these Ross’s guys? He stood back and got himself ready – he was not defeated yet.

Vision appeared in front of his cell and looked at him for a few moments. Then he turned to the guards. “I believe it will be better to sedate him again for the transfer.”

“Vision, listen to me,” Steve said. Before he could say anything else, Vision turned away.

“No. I am not interested in anything you have to say.”

From his cell, Clint was cursing again.

Then Bruce walked into his field of vision. “The other guy wouldn’t mind knocking you out again, Steve, so don’t give me a reason.”

It was the first time he’d seen Bruce since the battle in Sokovia, years ago. He looked well, and seemed to carry himself differently, though Steve couldn’t quite put his finger on what had changed.

“Bruce, you can’t possibly be in support of the Accords–”

Again, he was interrupted. “I am very much in favor of the Accords, Steve, and you are the main reason for that.” He shook his head. “But it’s obvious that you won’t listen to a word I say – nothing new there – and frankly I don’t want to talk to you any more than necessary. I’m just here to make sure you don’t hurt anyone else.” He stood back and gestured to a guard, who raised his weapon and hit Steve with three darts in quick succession. Steve was out in seconds.

*****

From his cell, Sam saw Steve go down while another guard tranqed Clint. He wanted to say they were being mistreated, but that wasn’t really true. Both of them had tried to escape before, so from a practical standpoint, it made sense to minimize the risks of further attempts by knocking them out. Since they had been tranqed before and suffered no ills effects, whatever drugs they were using didn’t seem to be dangerous. And while Steve got multiple shots, Clint got only one, so they were being cautious not to overdose them at least.

When a guard unlocked his cell, Sam held his hands up and allowed himself to be cuffed without protest. There was no fight left in him, not after the arraignment when he had stood there listening to all the charges against them and seeing the way the people around them had looked at them – with fear, anger and suspicion. Sam might have believed they had done the right thing once, but the little voice in his head had been joined by others now, and it could no longer be ignored. They had fucked up. Not intentionally, but that didn’t change the outcome. The Air Force representative had made that abundantly clear ( _treason_ and _not fit for the military_ kept echoing in his head).

Wanda was also quiet as they were all loaded into yet another jet, Clint carried by the guards and Steve by Vision. Dr Banner stayed nearby, though the Hulk did not make an appearance. The ride to the Tower was done in absolute silence, as was the walk to the elevator and from there to the cells that were to be their new homes.

Unlike in the UN building, the cells in the Tower were all on one side of the room, so once Sam got in he could no longer see the others, though he did hear them getting in. The guards left and only Vision and Banner remained. Sam kinda wished Rhodes was here. He felt like he should say something to the man, but wasn’t really sure what that might be.

“You will be watched at all times,” Vision said. Sam had never really felt at ease with the android (or whatever he was). “If there is something you require, let us know and we will deliberate as to whether or not it is acceptable.”

“How about something to read?” Sam asked.

Vision nodded. “It will be provided soon.”

Then they left, no further words spoken. Sam had never felt so alone in his life. He examined his cell: a bunk bed, a toilet with a mirrored cabinet, a small table and chair, some shelves on the wall and a chest of drawers. Pretty standard. He sat on his bunk and allowed the tears to come.

_What have we done?_

*****

Wanda sat staring at the walls of her new cell. Three gray ones and one glass.

It was over. All she’d ever done, all that she could ever be, and here she was, locked in a cage again. Only this time there was no Hydra general to let her out, to give her a purpose and a chance for revenge. She had lost her chance for revenge, lost her chance for redemption too, and now she had nothing left.

“Sam? Clint? Wanda? Are you guys there?”

It was Steve. Steve, who had given her a chance and then destroyed it, who had said he’d save her and then led her here, to another cell. Steve, who was as powerless as she was right now.

“Yeah, I’m here,” Sam answered. He was in the cell on the right from hers, Clint in the left and Steve after that. Not that it would make much difference. There were all trapped with no way out. The collar was still around her neck, choking her.

“Yep, here we are, in yet another cell. Got any more bright ideas, Captain Man With a Plan?” Clint had once been kind to her, after Pietro died. In the last few months in Wakanda, though, he had changed. All he ever did was complain, angry at everything. As if he had been the only one to lose something.

“Wanda?”

She said nothing. What was there to say? Their lives were over.

“I saw her brought in, she’s in one of these cells,” Sam said.

“Where are we?” Steve asked.

“Stark Tower. We’ll be staying here for the trial, remember? They told us that at the arraignment,” Sam replied.

“This is it, Steve. We are totally and completely screwed. And I bet these assholes aren’t even gonna let me see my wife. You hear that, Stark?” Clint yelled. “You’re a fucking asshole!”

“Well, well. How the mighty have fallen.”

A man Wanda didn’t know walked into the room and stood there looking down at them, like they were exhibits at a zoo. He was dark-skinned and was dressed all in black. He had an eyepatch over the left eye and didn’t seem friendly.

“Fury! Thank fuck! Get us out of here.” Clint said. Fury. Wanda had heard that name from the others, though she couldn’t really remember who he was supposed to be. A friend of Stark’s, probably.

“Really, Barton? You think that’s what I’m here for?” He paused in front of Steve’s cell.

“Why are you here?” Steve asked.

The man shrugged. “Morbid curiosity.”

“Damn it, Fury.” Clint yelled. “Where’s Nat?”

Fury sighed. “I don’t know what the fuck you idiots thought you were doing, but you’re in a world of trouble now. And as for Romanoff, she’s probably holed up somewhere. And if she’s smart, she’s gonna stay there.”

“The Accords–” Steve began, but was cut off.

“Really, Rogers? Did you even read the Accords? Because I’m pretty sure you didn’t. So how can you say anything about them, huh?”

“It’s governments’ agendas–”

“Oh, shut up. You’re embarrassing yourself.”

“The people–”

“Maybe it escaped your notice while you were cozying it up in Wakanda, but the Accords have been in effect for several months and the world hasn’t ended yet. In fact, people seem pretty happy about them.”

“They don’t understand–”

“Right, because you are the only enlightened soul in this world of 7 billion who knows the truth. Even though you have no real education and clearly no understanding of the modern world.”

“Ross is–”

“Are you fucking kidding me? Ross is in jail for violating the Accords. Seriously, did none of you bother to turn on the news? And you, Barton, I thought you’d have better sense than to get involved in this mess. Laura is pretty fucking pissed at you, you know.”

“Look, this is what they want, for us–”

“Give it a rest Rogers. You fucked up. Accept it and deal with the consequences.”

“We were trying to help people–”

“But you didn’t. You helped no one. Not even your buddy Barnes.”

“Bucky didn’t do anything–”

“Too bad we have a whole stack of evidence that say otherwise.”

“No, you can’t–”

“And what the fuck were you doing in Uganda?”

“I told you, we were trying–”

“Did it occur to you, Rogers, that those people didn’t want your help? Because they didn’t. They hate your guts. They never said you could go in their country and blow shit up.”

“There were terrorists–”

“You don’t get it Rogers. To them, hell to the whole world now, _you_ are the terrorists. And the people you attacked were Uganda’s armed force, you moron.”

“Damn it, let me talk!” Steve shouted, sounding angry and frustrated.

“I would if you had anything worth hearing. Sadly, that’s not the case. All I’m hearing is bullshit, uninformed ignorant bullshit at that. Anyway, I just came by to say goodbye to you idiots. I won’t be seeing you again.”

“Fury, goddammit! You can’t just leave us here!” Clint was angry too. Wanda was just empty.

“You made your bed, Barton. No one is going to clean up your messes anymore. This time you’ll have to actually deal with it.”

“We did the right thing!” Steve said, and he sounded so sure… But it didn’t change anything. Whether they had been right or wrong, it didn’t matter anymore.

“For who?”

“What?”

“The right thing for who, Rogers? It wasn’t for Rhodes, for Stark, or even for your friend. Hell, not even for yourself. And if you can’t see that…” He shook his head. “I should never have put you on the field. You aren’t fit for it.”

“What about Bucky?”

Wanda didn’t really know Steve’s friend. She had barely said two words to him before he went into the ice. She hadn’t understood why he’d done that, voluntarily walked into that kind of prison.

“Barnes will get a trial, same as you. Though his chances of walking free are pretty null. If nothing else, he’s still a ticking time bomb. As are all of you, really.”

“Is Bucky coming here?” Steve sounded hopeful. What difference would it make? A prison was a prison no matter where it was. She should have realized Wakanda was a pretty prison sooner and left on her own. Why hadn’t she? She might have been free now. Why had she bothered trying to save people if all they ever did was lock her up? She should have left them all to die, left the world to burn. What had anyone ever done for _her_?

“Don’t know and don’t care. Probably not. The two of you in the same place is just asking for trouble. Well, I wish I could say it’s been a pleasure, but it really hasn’t.”

He turned his back on them and Clint shouted again. “Wait! Where’s Laura? Where’s my wife? Is she safe?”

“Oh, _now_ you’re worried? Of course she’s safe, she’s smart woman. Well, she married you, so not that much, but…”

“Goddammit, Fury!”

“She has a new identity and a new life.”

“I want to see her, I want to see my kids.”

Fury shook his head. “She’s been notified of your arrest. If she wants to see you, she knows where you are. I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you, though. Like I said, she is seriously pissed. Kids too.”

For once Clint said nothing. Fury disappeared and they were left alone again. In dark, oppressive silence. The collar was still wrapped around her neck.

*****

Wakanda was a beautiful country, there was no doubt about that, but it was pretty much the last place on Earth Tony wanted to be.

He was met by Princess Shuri and several UN representatives as the jet touched down. The Princess stood straight and appeared confident, but Tony could see the tension in her shoulders and around her eyes. She was probably as tired as he was.

“Mr Stark,” she greeted him, foregoing the handshake in favor of bowing. “It is a pleasure to meet you, though I wish it was under different circumstances.”

“Likewise, Princess.” He bowed in return and offered her a tight smile.

“This way, please.”

The UN representatives nodded a greeting at him and they all followed the Princess to a conference room. There were drinks and snacks on one of the tables and Tony’s stomach decided to make its presence known by growling loudly. Damn, he was starving.

“Please help yourselves,” Shuri said and Tony didn’t hesitate. He was likely to be here for hours, after all. His eating schedule had been really erratic the past couple of days. He’d barely had time for anything except meetings and more meetings.

Once he no longer felt like his stomach was going to jump out in search of food, Tony leaned back in his chair and straightened. The others took that as a cue and everyone got ready.

“Princess Shuri,” one of the UN people began. They all had badges with their names on it, but Tony was too tired to pay attention to that. “We have heard from King T’Challa that the fugitive former Avengers were indeed in Wakanda prior to the incident in Uganda. And we understand that they did not have permission to leave. I’m sure you can understand that the international community is rather suspicious of all of this.”

All of this had probably already been discussed, but now that Tony was here to represent the official Avengers it all had to be rehashed. He felt for Shuri, really, as he doubted she had had any say in T’Challa’s decision, and now she was the one who would have to deal with it. He could certainly sympathize.

“I understand the world’s concern, Mr Goulos. Believe me, I never wanted these people in my country. Unfortunately, it was not my decision to make. I had to abide by my King.” The way she said ‘king’ was not particularly flattering. Tony wouldn’t be surprised if Wakanda changed leadership soon. She turned to Tony. “I assure you, all possible precautions were taken to ensure they were contained and could present to further threat to the world. I know that it was not Wakanda’s prerogative to do so without informing the Accords Committee, but… my brother… he felt he owed Sergeant Barnes a debt. And in his zest to… pay this debt… he did not make decisions that benefitted Wakanda, or the world at large.” Meaning he was only thinking of himself, much like a certain former Captain of Tony’s acquaintance. And T’Challa couldn’t even claim ignorance of the world. There was no excuse for him but plain stupidity. “We will do everything we can to cooperate with the UN.”

“Can Mr Barnes be safely moved?” another UN person asked.

“Not in stasis, but our doctors have been preparing Sergeant Barnes to be awoken so he can be transferred to a UN facility. It will be done as soon as all the documentation is in order and preparations are made for his transport.”

Tony very much did _not_ want to be here for this. He didn’t want to have to look at the man, or even be in the same room (hell, he didn’t want to be in the same _country_ ) as him. He _did_ know that it wasn’t really Barnes who had killed his parents, but that didn’t make it any easier. And he most certainly did _not_ want that man in his Tower, where his parents were. They still had nightmares about dying (and Tony still had nightmares of watching them dying), and none of them needed this crap.

“I assume you will be escorting the prisoner, Mr Stark?” Shuri asked.

Tony swallowed. He didn’t want to do it, but an official Avenger would need to do it, and he was the only one here. “How long until everything is in order?” _Please let there be time for someone else to come deal with this_ , he prayed.

“I imagine it will not take long. However, as the prisoner is not a flight risk, there is no need to hurry. It might be prudent to have another Avenger with you. While I do not believe Sergeant Barnes will try to escape, it would be best to be prepared for any eventuality.”

Tony wondered what Shuri knew about what had happened in Siberia, if she was trying to spare him or just delay having her country racked over the coals. Still, gift horses and all that.

“That’s probably wise, yes.” He turned to the UN representatives. “If there is no objection?”

With everyone’s assent, Tony excused himself to call Rhodey.

“What’s up, Platypus?”

“Hey, Tones, how is it going?”

“Boring meetings, what do you think?” He closed his eyes for a moment. “Are those dicks already at the Tower?”

“Yeah, they’re all settled in.”

“Any trouble?”

“Not really. Rogers seemed like he was going to try something stupid, but he didn’t get the chance. Those tranq darts worked like a charm. The Hulk wasn’t even needed. Friday is keeping an eye on them now.”

Tony sighed in relief. He knew that if there had been trouble he would have been notified, but it was still good to know everything was going well. “Good. So, we’ll be ready to move Barnes to the US soon. Do any of you guys want to come over and help me babysit him?”

“Viz and I can do it, Tony. There’s no need for you to be anywhere near that guy.”

Though it had taken some time and lots of therapy, Tony was finally able to accept help without feeling like a failure. And in this case, frankly, he was only too happy to accept it and delegate this task to his friends. “No, leave Viz there to guard the others and bring Bruce. Talk to the Panel people and come over as soon as you can. I am dying to get home.”

“On it.”

Tony took a few moments to himself – _almost over_ – before going back inside.

*****

King T’Challa (though he would most likely not hold that title for long) watched as the doctors slowly raised the temperature of the cryo tube. Beside him stood his sister Shuri, representatives from the UN Accords Panel and Dr Banner. Col Rhodes was signing papers with Tony Stark and other UN delegates in another room. While Mr Stark had not requested it, Shuri had arranged for him to be elsewhere for this, to spare both him and Barnes.

It had been approximately 72hs since the former Avengers (ExVengers, as the media had apparently taken to calling them) had escaped from Wakanda, leaving destruction in their wake. Three of the palace guards were still in the hospital recovering from whatever Miss Maximoff had done to them. T’Challa had wanted to go see them, to assure himself with his own eyes that they were well, but Shuri had advised against it. “The people are angry, brother,” she had said, and he’d had no choice but to listen.

None of this was supposed to happen, he thought. He had realized, of course, that allowing the fugitives to settle in Wakanda had been a mistake, yet once the decision had been made there had been no going back. He had been trapped. T’Challa had hoped to eventually convince the Captain and his friends to turn themselves in. He could have arranged transportation for them out of the country and the world would not have needed to know where they had been. Obviously, that had been nothing more than wishful thinking on his part.

He knew that his father would have been terribly disappointed with T’Challa’s decisions, and that knowledge sat heavily in his heart. Shuri had not said it outright, though it was hardly necessary at this point – he was not fit to rule. Despite all his training, all this knowledge of politics and economy and his skills as the Black Panther, T’Challa had acted in ways that were unworthy of the throne and of his people’s faith in him. He had failed both his father and his country. Now, with the eyes of the world upon him and Wakanda, he could no longer escape that truth. For months he had been telling himself that there would be a way out of the corner he had placed himself and now… now there was no more time, no more chances to make things right. Now there was nothing to do but accept the consequences and try to protect his country. Stepping down as King was necessary, even if it pained him greatly to admit defeat. He was not fit to rule. His poor decisions had endangered his people and, by allowing the fugitives to remain in Wakanda, he was also indirectly responsible for the tragedy in Uganda.

Still, he had promised Sergeant Barnes his protection, and he would see to it that the man was at least informed of the change in circumstances. He had been assured that Barnes would receive a trial, and that his brainwashing at Hydra’s hands would be taken into consideration. Shuri had pointed out, correctly, that while Barnes had not been responsible for their father’s death, he _had_ been responsible for others (and T’Challa had remembered Tony Stark’s face as he had watched his parents’ murder), and those families deserved justice just as much as them.

It shamed him now that he had done nothing to aid Stark in Siberia. T’Challa knew well the pain of losing a parent; the rage, despair and helplessness of seeing a loved one’s life fade right before one’s eyes and yet… he had done nothing. Still consumed by his own grief and anger, he had been unable to see another’s. He had offered help to Barnes, whom he had wronged, and failed to see that he had also wronged Stark, perhaps even more grievously. He did not know how the fight had ended, he had not checked it himself, simply believed the Captain’s word that Stark was fine. Now, seeing how little the Captain cared for the safety of those who stood in his way, he was appalled at his callousness for Stark. Though few details of Stark’s injuries had been released to the press, it was entirely possible that the man had been badly hurt. And T’Challa had abandoned him with little thought, concerned only with correcting his mistake with Barnes, with his own failures and his own feelings. It was… unforgivable. 

A hiss from the cryo tube drew his attention back to the moment. Dr Mvaba turned to the people assembled. “It will still take a while for Sergeant Barnes to regain consciousness. I would ask you to step back and allow him some breathing room.”

T’Challa sighed quietly. His own breathing room would be over soon. And he had no one but himself to blame for that.

*****

Waking up was always unpleasant and disorientating. Where was he? What would he be forced to do this time? He just wanted it to be over…

“Sergeant Barnes?” a voice said. It didn’t sound like Hydra. And Hydra wouldn’t call him that. Was that his name? It was hard to remember.

After a few moments the fog of defrosting lifted a little and he was able to take in his surroundings. The room seemed to be a lab, but not like any of the Hydra labs he’d seen; those had always been dark and dirty, stinking of blood. This one was bright and clean, white walls and floors, no darkness anywhere. He relaxed a little.

“Sergeant Barnes?”

The voice had an accent he couldn’t place (not Hydra) and he turned his head to look at whoever was speaking. A dark-skinned man dressed in a sharp gray suit. The man was familiar, though it was difficult to remember from where. He blinked, not sure if speaking was a good idea. He still felt lethargic and uncoordinated, though he did notice that there was little pain, just a twinge in his left shoulder that he was used to.

“I am going to raise the bed. Is that all right?”

The man waited for a nod of assent before pressing something on the side of the bed. Slowly, he rose up until he could more fully see the room and the group of people standing in the back. There was a black woman, some men in suits, a few dark-skinned people wearing lab coats and an unassuming white man with graying hair. He recognized none of them.

“Sergeant Barnes?”

Barnes. The name rattled around in his head like in a pinball machine, sparking little bits of memory. Was that him? Or it had been, once upon a time. Now… he didn’t know who he was.

“Do you remember me?” The man asked. “Do you know where you are?”

He tried to think, tried to remember. A fight. No, several fights. More Winter Soldiers, sent to kill innocents. No. No, a man plotting revenge. A man who knew the words, the words to destroy him, to turn him into a thing. _Oh god, what have I done?_ Another man, in a metal suit, someone he knew – had known before? – a friend. A friend he had killed. No, no that wasn’t right. It wasn’t the same man. _Was it?_ And… a blond man – _till the end of the line_ – Steve. Steve from the past, son of Sarah. _Bucky_. That was what Steve called him. He was Bucky. Or used to be.

“Where is Steve?” he asked the black man. The man who had offered them help and protection. Who’d told him he would be safe, that he wouldn’t hurt anyone anymore. Even if it was too late, far too late, for that.

“Mr Rogers is no longer here,” the man said.

He looked around, at the lab, at the people watching him, as he remembered everything. _Oh god…_ He swallowed before asking, “what happens next?”


	5. Traitor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, people. I hope you enjoy. And let me know what you think.

Howard watched the security feed of Fury talking to the ExVengers (it was a silly name, but kinda funny) for the fourth time. It was hard to believe how stupid Steve was, how little he seemed to understand about what had happened and the trouble he now found himself in. Once, Howard would have felt bad for him, so obviously out of his depth. Being thrust into the future was a hard thing to handle, Howard knew well; seeing familiar things that were nevertheless quite different, mourning the people that suddenly disappeared from one’s life (Howard still missed Jarvis, still sometimes turned around to look at him or tell him something, only to find he was not there, hadn’t been for _years_ ). Yeah, it was difficult, a huge adjustment. Once, Howard might have been sympathetic. Now, all he felt was anger and betrayal. Now, he could hardly stand the sight of the man he had once considered the world’s greatest hero.

“I am not certain confronting him would be a good idea,” Vision said, drawing Howard’s attention from the recorded images. Though Friday could monitor the prisoners herself, Vision had taken it upon himself to also keep an eye on them.

“Why not?”

“I do not see what there is to gain from it. It is unlikely that Mr Rogers will change his mind, or listen to a dissenting point of view. He does not seem capable of it.”

No, he certainly didn’t. He seemed to be the ‘my way or the highway’ kind of person. Still, Howard wasn’t really looking to change his mind. At this point, it hardly mattered whether Steve understood how badly he’d fucked up, as long as he faced the consequences. What he wanted was a chance to speak, to voice his feelings. To stand up for his son. To fix his mistake in helping create the legend of Captain America in the first place. Like Tony had done with his weapons when he’d realized the harm they had done, Howard wanted to destroy (though perhaps not so literally) the weapon he’d had a hand in making. He just needed to do _something_ to be able to sleep at night, to end the nightmares of dying, of watching his son bleed to death on front of his eyes with that blasted shield sticking out of his heart.

“Howard?” Maria entered the conference room and stopped, looking around at the multiple screens. Howard made a gesture and Friday turned them off. “Friday told me you were here.”

“Is everything okay?”

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing.” She gave him a disbelieving look. “Just… keeping an eye on things.”

“Are you going to talk to those… people?” The tone she used for ‘people’ was the same as most would use to refer to disgusting bugs.

“Yes.”

“We’re supposed to keep a low profile. At least wait for Tony to get back.”

No, he couldn’t do that. Howard couldn’t stand the thought of letting his boy anywhere near those assholes, even if he was well aware that Tony had already confronted Steve and won (well, the Hulk had won – too bad Friday didn’t have a recording of _that_ to show him.) He felt responsible for filling Tony’s head with ideas about the greatness of Captain America (while at the same time failing to show Tony that _he_ was loved and cherished) and now he needed to fix that. God, there was so much he needed to fix…

“Howard! Are you listening?”

“Yeah, yeah…” He looked back at the blank screens, still picturing Steve’s self-righteous face and hearing his ignorant words. Even if he didn’t listen, someone had to tell him some hard truths. Someone had to explain how badly he’d failed. Howard had been there at the beginning. Didn’t that make it his responsibility?

“Howard…”

“I have to do this, Maria. For Tony. For Peggy, for poor Erskine. For everyone he betrayed.”

She didn’t seem happy about it, but she nodded.

“Would you like me to accompany you, Mr Stark?” Vision asked.

Howard thought about it and decided it might not be a bad idea. He wasn’t sure how he’d actually react when he found himself face to face with that traitor, so it would be better to have someone there to keep him in line, to interfere if things got out of hand. And that most certainly shouldn’t be Tony. Vision could probably keep his cool better than any of Tony’s other friends (except maybe Hope, but she was still dealing with Lang).

“Let’s go.”

As he walked out, he saw Friday turning the screens back on and Maria sitting in one of the chairs to watch the forthcoming confrontation. It made him feel better to know his wife was backing him up, even if not in person.

*****

The tray with food was still in the corner of the cell. It had appeared via a panel on the wall instead of being brought by a guard. A precaution about further escape attempts, probably. Despite his expectation, the food had been quite good – not at all what Sam had imagined as prison food. Then again, they were in Stark Tower, the absolute lap of luxury. Three volumes had also been delivered through the same panel: the original Accords document, the revised one and the US Uniform Code of Military Justice. Someone’s idea of a joke, obviously. A rather cruel one.

He had ignored the last one, but his curiosity had gotten the better of him and he had taken up the two Accords and had leafed through them. Fury had made a good point earlier (something Sam had been trying to ignore for months, really) that the Accords they had fought against seemed to be working well in spite of their misgivings and suspicions. Either they had been completely redone or they had never been as bad as they had imagined in the first place. Neither option was very flattering to their team or to how they had chosen to deal with the situation. He wished now that he’d actually tried to find out more about what had been happening in the world while they’d been cooling their heels in Wakanda. At least _that_ prison had had a TV and internet access.

A sound from outside made Sam startle and he went to stand in front of his cell. Vision and a man Sam didn’t know had entered their “cell block”. The android looked as serene and remote as usual, but the man (though he seemed familiar, Sam couldn’t quite place him) was anything but. In fact, he looked really pissed off.

“Hello, Steve,” he said, tone ice cold. “It’s been a long time.”

“Howard?!”

*****

There was a stunned silence after Rogers’s declaration. Barton, Wilson and Maximoff were all standing at their cell’s glass doors trying to get a better look at Mr Stark and no doubt wondering what was happening.

“What…? Sam? Clint? Wanda? Are you… Am I seeing things?” Rogers asked. Friday searched her databanks for an appropriate emotion to ascribe to Rogers at the moment. Incredulity? Fear? Worry? She still had some difficulty interpreting human expressions.

Barton was the first to answer. “I’m definitely seeing someone. Who the hell is that?”

Mr Stark ignored him and the others, keeping his eyes locked with Rogers. His emotions Friday had no problem understanding: he was furious, though controlled. “Do you have anything to say for yourself, Steve?” he asked.

“I… how…? You’re… dead.”

“Ah, yes, I was. I remember it, actually. I guess I don’t have to tell you how it happened. I mean, you saw it, right? Watched it happen in a video, didn’t you?”

“Wait, is that Howard _Stark_?” Wilson said. Friday zoomed in on him to analyze his reaction. Surprise. Shock. Understandable, she supposed. Maximoff made an inarticulate noise but as she said nothing Friday wasn’t sure what that was meant to signify.

“Howard Stark is dead,” Barton snarled. “Someone is messing with our minds.”

“Oh, you mean like the way little Miss Hydra there likes to do? I guess you would be an expert on that, right, Agent Barton?”

“There are no mental manipulations taking place, Mr Barton,” Vision said. “Mr Stark has been accidentally resurrected.”

Again, the declaration was followed by silence, broken eventually by Mr Stark. “Well, Steve? Anything you want to say?”

“I…” Rogers appeared lost. Then he offered a tentative smile. “Well, I’m glad you’re alive. It’s good–”

He didn’t get very far before being interrupted. “Really? You’re glad I’m alive? That’s funny, ‘cause I didn’t see much concern from you when you were watching me _die_. In fact, you seemed to be far too busy _defending_ the man who _murdered_ me and trying to _kill_ _my_ _son_ to worry about it much.” His voice had risen toward the end and he took a step forward, teeth grinding and hands balled into fists.

“What the hell are you talking about? And who the hell do you think you are? Steve didn’t do anything–”

“Shut the fuck up, Barton. No one’s talking to you.”

Friday noted the perplexed and confused look on Wilson’s face and realized that Rogers had probably not informed his accomplices of what had transpired in Siberia. A quick review of their previous conversations revealed that they had indeed been surprised by the attempted murder charges. Apparently keeping vital information from teammates was common procedure for Rogers. Considering that that information would soon be public knowledge through the trial, Friday decided there would be no harm in showing it to them now.

She activated a holographic display in each of their cells and began playing the Siberia footage, including Zemo’s tape (though she made sure Mr Stark would not be able to see any of it – there was no need to make him watch it again), and took notice of their reactions.

Maximoff seemed indifferent, though it was difficult to say if that was because she did not care for Boss or if it was just a continuation from her indifference to anything since her capture.

Barton’s eyes widened at Zemo’s tape and then even more at the subsequent fight. He appeared quite surprised.

Wilson looked horrified, which Friday found strangely satisfying.

Rogers… Rogers looked stunned. It was almost as if he had no previous knowledge of those events. Friday could not understand it.

“How dare you!” Mr Stark hissed after Friday had turned off the video. “How fucking dare you use the shield I made to hurt my son?! You fucking son of a bitch! I ought to blow your fucking traitorous head off!” He was screaming at the end, so he took a deep breath, apparently to regain some control. “I can’t believe I ever thought you were a decent guy. I can’t believe I told my son you were a hero. You are a fucking horrible hypocrite! You took the gift you were given – that _I_ helped give you – and you spit in everyone’s faces! Who the hell told you you were better than everyone else, huh? You killed people, protected murderers and terrorists, betrayed your friends, ignored the world’s concerns, used your strength against innocents and expected everyone to just fall in line with you? You lying sack of _shit_! Peggy would be _disgusted_! Erskine would be _horrified_ of what you became! The Howling Commandoes would turn away from you in _shame_! You are a _disgrace_ to the army, to the US. A dirty _traitor_ and a fucking _bully_!”

*****

Steve felt frozen. Like he was back in the ice, being swallowed up by the unforgiving sea. His gaze went from the now blank wall where the images had been to Howard’s enraged face. It was… surreal. None of this made any sense.

He had never meant to hurt Tony, he had just been trying to keep Bucky alive. He wanted to say that he’d acted purely in self-defense, but the fight as seen through the video, weird angles and poor quality aside, didn’t really give that impression. He remembered only desperation in that moment, the thought that it was all crumbling down, that the terrible knowledge he’d been keeping from Tony (for his own selfish needs, not to spare Tony as he had once told himself) was out and there was no going back. He had not thought of Howard then, that was true. He had only thought of Bucky. It wasn’t his friend’s fault, he still stood by that. And yet… seeing the fight from the outside made Steve feel uncomfortable. But it hadn’t been his fault. What else was he supposed to do? Tony was trying to kill an innocent man, even if… well, even if he had some reason for that. Tony should have known that it wasn’t Bucky’s fault, he’d allowed himself to be played by Zemo; he’d given the man exactly what he wanted. Steve had just… protected his friend. ( _So was I_ , Tony had said.) But Tony didn’t need protecting (didn’t he? Didn’t he in that video?). No, no, Steve had done the right thing, the only possible thing. He’d protected Bucky.

“Anything you want to say, Steve?”

“I had to protect Bucky. Tony would have killed him.” He found his voice at last, finally able to get the words past his the lump in his throat. He’d done the right thing. He wasn’t a traitor. He _wasn’t_.

“I see. So Bucky is the only thing that matters in this world. Everyone else can just go straight to hell as far as you’re concerned.” The disdain in his tone was grating.

“That’s not–”

“No? Because what I saw was you beating a man half to death for _Bucky_. Killing task force agents in Bucharest for _Bucky_ , lying to your teammates for _Bucky_. I have to wonder what else you’d be willing to do for him. I mean, besides killing, since you’ve already proven you’ll do that. Betraying too. And you call yourself a hero?” He looked at Steve with such hatred that Steve physically recoiled. “You _disgust_ me.”

No one had ever looked at him like that. Ever. It was… it hurt. Howard should know him, should know that he was a good person.

“I don’t know what happened to you, Steve. But this… what I see now when I look at you… you aren’t a hero. You aren’t a good man. You are an ignorant, selfish, self-righteous asshole who doesn’t deserve anything you were given.” _My father made that shield_ , Tony had said, _you don’t deserve it_. “You make me _sick_.” The venom in his words was like a knife stabbing into Steve. No. He was good. He _was_. Howard turned to the others. “As for the rest of you assholes… did any of you ever _think_ about you were doing? Or is that too difficult for you? I guess I can’t really expect much from Hydra scum, but Wilson and Barton? Did either of you actually _read_ the Accords before you decided that you didn’t need oversight? Perhaps you think having some special equipment and abilities gives you the right to invade countries and kill people whenever you feel like it. Perhaps you think other people’s lives don’t matter either. Well, you’ll have plenty of time to reflect on your bad choices. I hope all of you rot in hell like the vermin that you are.”

Steve was having trouble processing the words. It couldn’t be true. They weren’t… that was not what they’d done. They’d been trying to _save_ people, to keep their independence so they could _help_.

Ross would have made them into government attack dogs.

“That’s not… that’s not what happened,” he said at last, noting with alarm how meek (weak) he sounded. All his life he’d stood proud of his convictions, his goodness. Now… No, he hadn’t been wrong. He’d done the right thing.

“Really? What happened then? Explain it to me, Steve. Tell me how you can possibly justify any of it.”

Steve didn’t know what to say. He had never been good at talking, articulating himself well to get his point across. He’d always believed that actions spoke louder than words, so he made his stance known through deeds, standing up for what he believed in, for what was right.

“Well?” Howard looked at him as if he was an idiot, an incompetent child. Just like Tony had done whenever he’d had to explain something about the future or about technology. Like he was better than Steve. He wasn’t. Steve had been given the serum because he was special. _Good becomes great_. Erskine had said so (and Howard had just said he’d be horrified). No, no. Steve was… he was a good man. “I guess punching people is all you know.”

“The Avengers can’t be government attack dogs,” he finally said. “The Accords wanted to take away our freedom to act, to help people.”

Howard shook his head. “Jesus.” He was silent for a moment, as if deciding what to say. Steve had a feeling he wouldn’t like whatever came next. Still, at least Howard was listening. Steve could finally explain why all of this was so very wrong. “Okay. Let me explain to you how the world works, since you obviously don’t know a fucking thing. First of all, the United Nations is _not_ a government. It’s an international organization formed after World War II to promote peace and cooperation amongst the world’s countries. Its goal is to reduce and mediate global conflicts and to promote social improvements, like education and human rights. It does _not_ tell anybody what to do, not countries and most certainly not individuals. Second, taking away your so-called freedom to act is obviously a good thing, since your actions are a disaster. You don’t have the right to invade countries, no matter how helpful you think you are being. You don’t get to impose your will on the world, Steve. In fact, that’s kinda what people like Hitler were trying to do. And the Red Skull. Remember him?”

Steve felt like he’d been slapped. “I’m nothing like the Red Skull!”

“Actually, yeah, you are. You think your ideas are right and you trample over everyone who disagrees with you. People are scared – hell, they are _terrified_ – of you. Because you don’t listen, you don’t understand, and you don’t care about anyone except Barnes.”

“That’s not true!”

“Really? Did you care about Tony when you were beating the shit out of him? Did you care that he’d just seen a really traumatic video and was overwhelmed with grief? Did you care about Rhodes, who got hurt because of your stubborn refusal to listen? Did you care about your teammates here, who are probably looking at a lengthy jail sentence because, again, you couldn’t be bothered to talk out your disagreement about the Accords like a civilized adult? Did you care about Tony and Bruce when you let that Hydra terrorist bitch join the team, after she had messed with their heads? Did you care about the officers in Bucharest you killed and injured while you were protecting Barnes? Did you care about the people who died in that tunnel? Did you care about the people who died in Lagos when you invaded their country and started a fight in the middle of a crowded market? Did you care about the SHIELD agents and their families who died when you released all the SHIELD files for the world to see? Did you care about the people in Uganda you killed because you got involved in a situation you knew nothing about? Did you care about the ordinary people of the world, who were left to wonder where you’d strike next, who you’d kill the next time you decided you were the only one who could make decisions? Did you care about any of that?”

Howard hadn’t raised his voice through any of that, just spoke calmly, looking at Steve straight in the eyes, and yet his voice seemed to get amplified, thundering inside Steve’s head with every sentence, every question asked. Steve wanted to say he _had_ cared, but… (Well, had he?)

“Sometimes people die despite our best efforts,” he managed to say (whisper), though it sounded pathetic even to his own ears.

Howard shook his head again. “And sometimes people die because you fuck up. Sometimes they die because someone makes a mistake. And you made mistakes, Steve. A lot of mistakes. People died that didn’t need to die. People died because of _you_ , because you were too blinded by arrogance and pride to see beyond yourself. You are not a hero. A hero thinks of others first. You only think about yourself. You’re just a guy who managed not to die when given an experimental serum. Tony was right, there is _nothing_ special about you. I can’t believe I _ever_ thought otherwise.”

Steve felt his knees give and he fell on the floor of the cell, shaking his head in denial. No, no. This wasn’t right. He was… he’d been _chosen_. Chosen because he was _good_. _Good becomes great_ , Erskine had said. He was _good_.

Howard was still watching him with a mix of hatred and disgust, and Steve just couldn’t take it anymore. He turned away and collapsed in his bunk, unsure of what to think, how to feel. This… none of this was meant to happen. All he’d ever wanted was to help, to do his part, to prove to himself and to the world that he was capable (because, perhaps, deep down, he had never stopped feeling small and helpless, pathetic and weak).

He closed his eyes and curled up, willing everything to just go away.

*****

From the conference room, Maria watched Rogers as the man shrank in on himself. _Good_ , she thought, _he deserves it_. The fiercely protective mother in her still wasn’t quite satisfied, though. She wanted him to _bleed_ for what he’d done to her baby. Still, this was good, a good first step. Things could only get worse for him now, he would not escape justice. And she’d have a front row seat for his downfall.

Turning her attention to the other cells, she noted that Barton and Wilson had been brought low by Howard’s words as well. Wilson was sitting in a corner of his bed hugging his knees, a distant look in his eyes. Barton was also sitting quietly, blinking furiously and rubbing at his eyes, as if that gesture would make things clear again. The woman hadn’t really changed much, still constantly tugging at the collar around her neck. Maria felt not an ounce of sympathy for any of them. _They made their beds, now they’ll have to lie in them_.

“Turn it off, Friday,” she said. “I’ve seen what I wanted to see.”

“Mr Stark asks that you meet him in your apartment, Ma’am,” Friday said as the screens went blank.

“Thank you, tell him I’m on my way.”

Howard was pacing when she walked out of the elevator, so she went to him and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him with all her strength. He returned her embrace just as strongly.

“You did very well, Howard,” she told him. It wasn’t right that he should blame himself for Rogers’ actions, and she didn’t want him drowning in unnecessary and misplaced guilt. “You did what you had to do and you can let go now. It’s over and now he’ll have to face the consequences of his actions.”

It took her a moment to realize he was crying, shaking slightly in her arms. Maria swallowed hard and allowed her own tears to come.

“It’s okay,” she murmured, whether to herself or Howard she wasn’t sure. “We’re going to be okay. All of us. It’s okay. It’s over now. It’s over now.”

Howard nodded. He took a deep breath and stepped back from her, though he didn’t completely let go. The smile on his face was tinged with sadness and grief, but it was there.

The hard part was over, she told herself. It would be better from now on. They were together, Tony would soon come home. Their son was safe, the world was safe from the ExVengers. Justice would be done. The hard part was over.


	6. New perspective

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Clint's reactions to the truth about Siberia and Steve. And a couple of other people coming to some uncomfortable realizations. I hope you like it.

As Howard Stark’s steps faded away (Vision walking silently beside him), Sam continued to sit there in shock. He still couldn’t believe what he’d seen in that video. It didn’t seem possible, yet he couldn’t refute the evidence before his eyes. The Starks’ gruesome death at the hands of the Winter Soldier was bad enough, but the idea that Steve had known and said nothing… _Jesus_. And the subsequent fight had been nothing short of horrific. (Even a man back from the dead wasn’t quite so shocking as what he had revealed.)

The worst thing, Sam thought, was that Steve had lied to them (like he’d lied to Tony). The story he’d told them about Siberia had been a bold-faced lie, plain and simple. It was more than just omission, he’d left out _everything_ relevant about it. He’d made it sound as if Tony had betrayed them – when it had actually been the other way around – and that had been done deliberately. Steve had lied to make himself look better, to put the blame on someone else when it was in fact _he_ who’d been at fault, at least for part of it.

It made Sam wonder what else Steve had lied to them about. How else he’d twisted the truth to suit his own purposes and make himself seem better and blameless. Sam had believed in him (so had Howard Stark, so had _Tony_ Stark) and… he’d (they’d) been betrayed. The attempted murder charge was not bogus after all, but very real. The fight (no matter how it had started), had been Steve’s fault. Because he’d lied. To protect Bucky. Like Howard Stark had pointed out, all Steve had done had been for his friend, and not for any noble reason he might have said. It was no wonder people were terrified of him (of them). Stark was right, it didn’t seem as if Steve had cared about anything but Bucky. And now they were _all_ paying the price for it.

Still, Sam had not been an innocent bystander caught in the crossfire. He’d made his own decisions of his own free will – and now he could see that they’d been the wrong ones. Now, with this new knowledge, he could understand why Rhodes had looked at him with such disdain in Uganda.

Why had he not thought about any of this before? All that time in Wakanda and he’d kept his head firmly buried in the sand, refusing to even entertain the thought that they might have been wrong, or had handled things badly. He had not questioned, he’d simply gone along like a well-trained dog. All he’d wanted was to do good, to make a difference (again). Yet somewhere along the line he’d left all common sense (not to mention his military training) behind and became an arrogant fool with an over-inflated sense of self ( _that’s dangerously arrogant_ , Rhodes had said, and, boy, he’d been right). He’d actually believed that they were better than the others (the ones who had followed Tony, who had listened to the world’s concerns), that they knew better. What the hell was wrong with him?

And listening to Steve – both what he’d said to Fury earlier and now to Stark – it was abundantly clear that the man was quite ignorant about a lot of things. Most of what he’d been saying about the Accords was a bunch of bullshit (and Sam was ashamed that he’d done the same thing, even before Steve had said anything, and he didn’t even had the excuse of having been frozen for 70 years. Christ, what had he been thinking?). Going to Uganda had been a terrible mistake. Not because they’d been caught, but because they had never had any business being there in the first place, getting involved in things they knew nothing about. Now that Sam actually thought about it, they had just gone in without any intel, any plan, without any real understanding of the situation, simply because they had wanted the chance to prove themselves right and leave their exile. (They had been selfish, thinking of themselves rather than the people they were supposed to be helping). As if they could simply ignore all mistakes, all lives lost and things destroyed. As if they were still heroes. Everything they’d said about the others, the disparaging comments, the derision, the _hatred_ … and they were the ones who’d been wrong all along. How had it come to this? Where had they gone wrong? How could all of this have happened?

Sam had no answers, only questions – questions he should have asked himself much, much earlier.

*****

“How did you become involved with the so-called Civil War, Mr Lang?” the UN Accords Panel investigator asked.

Scott was in San Francisco, in an FBI building, being interrogated about his idiotic actions. Because he had turned himself in to the Wakandan and later UN authorities, he’d managed to get himself sent to his hometown rather than New York with the others in an attempt to be closer to his daughter. He’d tried to call Maggie, to talk to her and explain, but she had – predictably – hung up in his face. Scott hoped that she’d eventually agree to speak to him, and was going to do everything he could to make up for all he’d done. And the first thing was to cooperate with the investigations.

Hope had gotten him a lawyer and then pretty much washed her hands of him.

“I got a call from Sam Wilson,” Scott answered. His lawyer had advised him to be absolutely honest, which he had every intention of doing.

“How did you know Mr Wilson?”

“I… uhm… I kinda fought with him before. When I… uhm… stole something from the Avengers’ Compound.” It seemed really stupid now. He could have gone straight back to jail right then and there.

His lawyer had said Hank was claiming responsibility for that incident (a fancy lawyer word for theft), and was in talks with Stark Industries to settle the matter, so this line of questioning wasn’t currently relevant.

“Very well,” Ms Gerard, the UN investigator, said. “How did Mr Wilson know how to contact you?”

“Well, I got a call from a friend who knew someone… I don’t really know, actually. I didn’t really ask.”

“I see. And what was the content of your conversation with Mr Wilson?”

“He said Captain America needed help to stop some bad guys from doing some bad things, and he asked if I wanted to help.”

“Stop bad guys from doing bad things,” Ms Gerard repeated, a note of skepticism in her voice. “Those were his exact words?”

“Well, no, but that was the gist of it. He didn’t give a lot of details, just said that the world was in danger and that Cap needed help.”

“Then what?”

Scott looked down at his hands. God, he was so ashamed of how stupid he’d been, jumping up to fly half-way around the world on pretty much nothing. He’d had hardly any information about the situation, and still he had, for some reason, thought it was a good idea to get involved. “He said that Hawkeye would be coming by to pick me up and then we’d all be going to Europe, where Cap and Wilson were. So I took the Ant-Man suit and packed a bag.”

“You didn’t ask any questions?”

“No. I was… too star-struck to be asked by Captain America to save the world. I thought I’d be a hero. I didn’t… I didn’t consider that he might have been wrong, or misleading me. I mean, it was Captain America…” As if that meant the man was infallible, that no questions needed to be asked. Because Scott was clearly a moron.

“And you illegally snuck on a plane to Germany?”

Scott cringed, but nodded. God, it’d been one stupid decision after another, hadn’t it? And that wasn’t even the worst of it.

“What happened then? What was Mr Rogers’s plan?”

“We needed the Avengers’ quinjet to go to Russia, where these Winter Soldiers were supposed to be. So the plan was to wait for them and then steal the jet.” It had been a really stupid plan.

“So no attempt was made by Mr Rogers or anyone else on his team to tell the Avengers about the threat of the Winter Soldiers?”

“No.”

“Why?”

Why indeed, Scott couldn’t help but wonder ( _now_ , when it was far too late). Hank had told him never to trust a Stark and Scott had accepted that without question (even though Hank had probably never even met _Tony_ Stark). The others (especially Wanda) had said terrible things about Stark, and it had only been after they were stuck in Wakanda that Scott had started really thinking about why – or about the fact that what they said did not seem to match what the rest of the world had been saying.

“I don’t know. I guess they didn’t trust Tony Stark, for some reason.” A reason that Scott didn’t quite understand now (and hadn’t cared about then. After all, Hank had said the same thing).

“What about the others? Col Rhodes?”

Scott could only shake his head. “I don’t know.”

“Tell me about the fight.”

Though his account was probably rather disjointed, Scott tried to tell her absolutely everything – including all of his appalling decisions. Once he might have joked about it, tried to make light of it, but now… the time for joking was long past. He stuck with the facts, not bothering to justify any of it; there was no possible justification for any of it. That fight should never have happened, and Scott should never have taken any part in it, let alone risked his own life and those of others when a better solution – a peaceful solution that didn’t involve injury and property damage – could have been reached. Jesus, he could have _killed_ people. And for what?

“How did you escape from the Raft prison?”

“Cap and Barnes snuck in and broke us out.”

“Did anyone get hurt?”

With a sigh, Scott nodded. At the time, all he’d wanted was to go home, so he hadn’t really cared. Now… well, it was all different now, wasn’t it? New perspective and everything. Cap and Barnes (and Clint after he’d gotten free) had _not_ been gentle with the guards. Scott had no idea whether anyone had been killed, but if not, it certainly hadn’t been out of any concern from them. He told Ms Gerard everything he remembered about it. Without the suit, Scott hadn’t participated in the fight, just stayed down and let the others deal with it, not sparing a thought to anyone but himself. Somehow, at that point, he’d still thought he’d be going home to Cassie after that. Christ, how delusional…

“And after that you all went straight to Wakanda?”

“Yeah. Cap said King T’Challa had offered us protection, that ‘he’s seen how wrong the Accords are’. Those were his words.” And again, no one had questioned it. The fact that the son of the guy who had been a key player in the drafting of the Accords in the first place would just completely turn his back on it because… Scott didn’t even know. Because Captain America said they were bad? Why should the King of Wakanda even give a shit? It didn’t make any sense.

“Did you meet King T’Challa?”

“Yeah, when we arrived. He told us where we’d be staying and gave us some stuff. After that he… I don’t know, went back to doing King’s stuff, I guess. We didn’t see him much.”

“Did anyone make plans for further attacks at that point?”

“No. For a while we didn’t really do anything but sit there. Barnes went back into cryo and Cap said we needed to keep our heads down until the whole thing blew over. He seemed to think that the Accords would just… I don’t know… disappear overnight, or something. That we would be able to go back soon and all would be forgiven and forgotten.”

For a while, Scott had believed that too – because Captain America had said so? Jesus, what a moron he’d been – and had waited. But nothing ever happened, and the more time he spent with them, the more uncomfortable Scott felt about the whole thing. Clint’s hate-filled rants, Wanda’s sulking and moaning, Wilson’s apathetic silences about it all, Cap’s insistence that everything would be sunshine and roses even when all evidence pointed to the contrary made Scott wonder about what the fuck he’d gotten himself into (finally). Then Hope had stood _with_ Tony Stark and… He’d distanced himself from the others and tried to think about how to get out of the hole he’d dug for himself.

“Tell me about Uganda and the decision to go there.”

Decision was definitely too strong a word for what had happened. There had been no decision, just a desperate act to try to save themselves. Still, he recounted what he’d heard – including how Clint had all but wished for the world to be in danger just so he could make himself feel important by saving it, and the absolute lack of any planning.

“After they had gotten their stuff and left, I went to one of the palace guards and told them what they were going to do. It didn’t really help. They escaped anyway.” Once again leaving destruction in their wake.

“You didn’t try to stop them?”

And there was the issue, wasn’t it? Not that, realistically, Scott could have done much against a super soldier, a trained spy, a soldier and a crazy powered lady, but… he could have done _something_. He wished he had. “I told Cap I thought it was a stupid idea, but it wasn’t like anyone listened to me anyway.” It wasn’t like Cap listened to _anyone_ , actually. The world had all but shouted in his face that the Avengers couldn’t just do whatever they wanted and Cap had ignored it.

There were more questions, more details about what Scott had seen and heard while in the company of the ExVengers (what a stupid name), and about their stay in Wakanda. There was no question that King T’Challa was in really big trouble for having harbored them (and Scott still wasn’t sure _why_ he’d done it). Scott didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything but getting this whole thing over with. And figuring out what was left of his life.

*****

Bucky (was he still Bucky?) sat on the Avengers’ jet, his one hand cuffed to the seat, staring at nothing. Across from him was the new guy (Banner, he was called) and next to him the guy in the suit (not Iron Man, the other one – the one Bucky _hadn’t_ tried to kill). Iron Man (Tony _Stark_ ) was… someplace else. Bucky certainly didn’t blame him for keeping his distance (and, in truth, Bucky was grateful for that – how could he possibly face the guy after all he’d done anyway?).

He’d been told that he was being taken back to the US for a trial, and that Steve and the others were already in custody after they’d gotten involved in another fight in Uganda that had ended with people dead. It seemed like everywhere he turned, death was all he saw.

Despite the tension he still felt, Bucky actually fell asleep some time during the fight and only woke again when the jet touched down (he was always a bit groggy after a long stint in cryo). He was led down an elevator and into a large room with a table and chairs. Odd, since he’d been expecting a cell.

Banner secured him to the table (a reinforced one, he hoped) and then stood to the side with Rhodes (the other Iron Man), waiting. A short time later the man Bucky had seen in Berlin (things had come back to him finally) entered the room, followed by two other men in suits.

“Hello again, Sergeant. I’m Everett Ross – not related to the former Secretary of State. These are Mr Alvarez and Palton, attorneys. Mr Alvarez has agreed to represent you, if that’s okay with you. Mr Palton is a representative of the UN Accords Panel. He’s here to ensure you are being treated fairly and that your rights are being respected. Do you understand?”

Bucky nodded, though he felt a little overwhelmed. He looked back at Banner and Rhodes, who watched him suspiciously.

“Dr Banner and Col Rhodes are here to ensure everyone’s safety,” Ross said. _To make sure I don’t kill anyone_ , Bucky thought. _Good_.

“We have a few questions we would like to ask you, if that’s all right.”

Again, Bucky could only nod. This man was probably not Hydra. The other two… well, the Avengers were just over there, they probably wouldn’t try anything.

“According to King T’Challa’s statement, you asked to be placed in cryogenic sleep after you arrived in Wakanda. Is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” His voice had no particular inflection, as if the man was merely curious. However, the question was anything but simple.

For the longest time, Bucky hadn’t really been anything (anyone). He’d existed as a weapon, as a thing to be used and then put back in the box once the work was done. He remembered bits of it, parts of missions, of people he’d killed, though he didn’t always have the whole context. And it was hard to tell in what order things had happened. Since he’d gotten free – or the closest thing to free he could be now – he had tried to piece things together, to find out who he’d been before all of that. Before Hydra, when he’d been a whole person.

The thing he remembered most was Steve. Not the Steve he was now, though, the one he’d been before, the little one. Bucky wasn’t sure he liked this new one. There was something… wrong? missing?... in this new Steve, something he couldn’t quite figure out. Something that made Bucky uncomfortable to be around him. He hadn’t really noticed it at first, when people had come crashing into the quiet space he’d tried to build for himself, accusing him of things he had nothing to do with, and all he could do was fight. Fight not to be taken in again, not to end up in Hydra’s hands again. _God, please no_. But it wasn’t Hydra. That doctor hadn’t been Hydra, just an angry man seeking revenge for something that Bucky’d had no part in. Steve had, though. Steve had done something to that man, killed someone he’d cared about (not on purpose, probably, though it didn’t seem to make much difference). And Bucky had done something to Stark (he remembered Howard Stark, big smile and fast talking) – not on purpose, but it didn’t matter. The people he’d killed were just as dead. Was it the same situation?

He tried to remember the fight at the bunker, tried to remember when he’d started to feel wrong. (Or had it been before that? When Steve’s friends had stayed behind? _Never leave a man behind_. _Am I worth all that?_ ) Whenever it had happened, all he knew was that the fight had been wrong. Not right at the moment, though. No, then he had only thought about the battle – about completing the mission (failure was unacceptable, failure meant pain). The part of him that was still a bit of before had seen little Stevie going down and had just reacted (but it hadn’t been little Stevie, had it?). Once it was over, with some distance and the adrenaline and desperation having worn off… well, he’d seen things in a whole new light; a grieving man (who’d been lied to), lashing out in anger and pain. There shouldn’t have been a fight, not like that.

The more he’d thought about it afterwards, the worst he’d felt. About everything. About all the people he’d hurt (god, so many… so much blood on his hands…). And plenty of it without Hydra controlling him. What did that say about him? (About what was left of him?) All he’d wanted was to be left alone, to stop hurting people. And then there was Steve – _not_ little Stevie – a Steve he didn’t know anymore (because Bucky had changed? or had Steve?). It should have been a good thing, a lifeboat he could cling to in order to stay afloat and yet… he felt like he was clutching a heavy weight and sinking even further, dragged down by the weight of a past that no longer existed. Going back into the ice seemed like the best solution – the _only_ solution. The only way to get away, to find some peace. (To stop fighting). To just… stop.

How could he even begin to articulate all that? All those things that he was still trying to understand, to make sense of in his own head?

“I… I couldn’t trust myself.”

*****

There was nothing to do but stare at the walls. As a sniper, Clint was used to long waits, holding the same position until the target was in sight. This… this was different. There was no mission, nothing to accomplish – he wasn’t waiting for anything to get done so he could go home. There would be no going home.

For months he’d been in this… limbo. And for months he’d clung to his anger, his rage, to the idea that, if they just waited long enough, it would all blow over and they’d be back home. Home with his wife and kids. He’d clung to anger because that was easier than admitting that he might have made a mistake (or several). In retiring, in leaving retirement, in… fuck, everything. It was so much easier to blame someone else, to believe that he’d done the right things and the world was simply out to get him. After all, he was a hero (was he?), and heroes always did the right thing (did they?). Funny that he’d only thought that of his _own_ team, though…

Clint had never been big on introspection. He wasn’t a thinker, he was a doer. Someone told him to do something and he did it. Planning, analyzing, seeing the big picture… none of that was his job. His job was to shoot arrows and hit the targets he was told to hit. Someone pointed and he took the shot. Easier that way. (Until it blew up in his face.) His vision was excellent, but only for the target. Everything else was someone else’s responsibility.

He wanted to cling to his anger, his righteousness, and yet… it was getting harder and harder to do that. First Fury, telling him (them) in no uncertain terms that they’d fucked up. And that tape… Shit. All these months he’d fixated on the idea that Stark had betrayed them, that _he_ was the reason for all of this. Steve had told them so, had told them that, despite his promises in the Raft, he hadn’t gone as a friend. Clint had taken that as confirmation of every bad thing he’d ever thought about Stark, as permission to hate him. But that was a lie. Stark _had_ gone as a friend. He hadn’t just turned on Steve for no reason, he’d had a _very_ good reason. A reason Steve had purposefully not told them. If Steve had lied about that, what else had he lied about? About the Accords? About Wanda being in danger at the Compound?

And if all of those things had been lies, then what the fuck had Clint abandoned his family for? What the fuck had this all been about?

Well, Stark (Howard Stark. Jesus, did no one stay dead anymore? Next thing, Loki would show up to try to kill them all again) had said it’d been about Bucky. Considering the video, Clint was inclined to believe that. He’d trusted Steve, and look where that had gotten him. He’d thought they were doing things for the greater good, for the world, but… no. They’d been fighting for Cap’s friend.

He might never see his wife and kids again. For nothing. He wasn’t a hero. He was just an idiot who trusted the wrong guy and got screwed over. Again. Just like with SHIELD and Hydra, he’d missed what was really going on and lost everything. Some spy he was, he couldn’t even tell when people were lying right to his face.

This was all Steve’s fault (was it?). Steve had lied and betrayed them. It wasn’t Stark, it was Steve. (Not Clint himself, it was always someone else. Always.)


	7. Family

Howard and Maria were waiting on the roof when the jet touched down. The second Tony walked out he was embraced by his parents and he felt himself truly relax for the first time in days. He was finally home. There would still be a lot to do in the coming weeks and months regarding the ExVengers’ trials, but for now he was back home with his family and that was all he cared about.

Once inside the penthouse, his mom made him sit on the couch and started fussing, saying he needed to eat and rest and take care of himself and ordering his dad around to fetch this and that.

“Mom. Mom. Stop it, I’m fine.”

She simply hugged him again and kissed his forehead as if he was a little kid (he was secretly pleased). “Oh, baby.”

“It’s all right, mom. I’m good. It’s all good now.”

“No, not yet. Not until those vile people get what they deserve.”

“They’ll get it, Maria,” Howard said, looking murderously angry. It still awed Tony that his dad was so protective.

“You should have seen you father laying it on that despicable Rogers, honey. It was very satisfying.”

 _What?_ “What are you talking about? Dad, did you talk to him? When? What? Are you nuts?” Tony stood up, unsure what to think about it.

“You’re damn right I talked to that traitorous asshole. I had a few things I needed to say, and he had a few things he needed to hear. I think I might even have gotten something through his thick ignorant skull. No one threatens my kid and gets away with it.”

Tony didn’t know what to say. In truth, he might have guessed his father would want to speak to Rogers, but Tony had been too preoccupied with a lot of things to really give it much thought. Much as he wanted someone to call Rogers out on his rampant stupidity, it kinda terrified him that his father might have been anywhere near that asshole. Rogers had proven he wasn’t above hurting his supposed friends, what if he’d done something to hurt his dad? (The rational part of him knew that wasn’t likely. Rogers was in a specially designed cell and Friday was monitoring him.)

“Dad...” he started then floundered.

“Yeah, I know we’re supposed to be keeping our heads down, Tony, but… shit. I had to. I had to do something. I mean, what I really wanted was to take the shield and bash him on the head with it” (Tony could help smiling to himself at that mental image), “but I restrained myself. I just… I had to, Tony. I had to try and fix it.” Howard had the same desperate look in his eyes that Tony was used to seeing in the mirror right after a disaster (after Afghanistan, after the invasion, after Ultron), when the need to _fix_ things was overwhelming and all consuming. He understood.

“Okay, dad. Just… be careful, okay? You can’t trust any of those fuckers.”

“Vision and I were monitoring the situation, Boss,” Friday said, sounding slightly hesitant. “We would not allow harm to come to Mr Stark.”

 _Oh, great, the kids were in on it too_ , Tony thought.

“Come on, honey,” Maria said, taking his arm to lead him into the kitchen. “Let’s get something to eat and talk about more pleasant things. Those bastards don’t deserve this much attention.”

So they tried very hard to stick to other topics and enjoy themselves. When his mother finally sent him to bed (sent him to bed! What had his life come to – he loved it), Tony grabbed his Starkpad and checked the security feeds. He wanted to see what his dad had said to Rogers – and more importantly, how Rogers had reacted to his dad on the warpath. (He did hope that wouldn’t come back to bite them in the ass if Rogers or the others decided to blab about it to the world. Oh, well, they were crazy deluded criminals, who’d believe them?)

It didn’t surprise him that Rogers hadn’t told his minions about what had really happened in Siberia – keeping secrets was right up his alley, after all, especially if they benefited either his BFF or himself. Tony was gratified to find that at least Wilson and Barton didn’t seem happy to find they’d been lied to. _Guess the rose-colored glasses are finally coming off_ , he thought, watching the betrayed look on their faces. Still, Tony didn’t really feel much sympathy – it was their own damn fault for never questioning Saint Steve and taking his side without any real consideration for anything else (and he hadn’t forgotten Barton’s crack about Rhodey at the Raft).

The sight of Howard calling Rogers out on his crap was, as his mom had said, immensely satisfying, even if a part of him didn’t want his father anywhere near that bastard. If that was the kind of shit Rogers was intending to say in his own defense – that pile of ignorant bullshit – the judges wouldn’t need two minutes to find him guilty of all charges. Guy couldn’t even pretend to give a crap about the rest of the world that wasn’t named Bucky.

It really made Tony wonder why he’d ever tried so hard to be a part of that clusterfuck of a team, why he’d ever given two shits about Rogers and what he thought. Tony would have been better as a solo hero after the invasion, rather than bend over backwards for those bastards that never cared or respected him. The aftermath of the Ultron fiasco should have been the final nail on that coffin, but for some reason Tony had still thought things could get better, that they could still be a team. Christ, what a delusional idiot he’d been. Rogers had _never_ given a crap about him, had never really given a crap about _anyone_ but Barnes.

Now Tony just wanted to wash his hands of the whole thing and keep going with his _real_ team, his real family. The father who had stood up to a bully to defend him, the mother who cared for him and showed him that in a hundred big and small ways, the AI kids who had his back when he needed it, the friends who had stuck with him through thick and thin. He wasn’t alone anymore. He really wasn’t, and seeing his father on video standing his ground against Steve for _him_ healed a part of him Tony didn’t even know was hurt. All those years he’d been wrong about Howard. His father cared about him more than Steve after all. His father thought he was a hero. His father was proud of him, _not_ Steve. Tony Stark was finally better than Steve Rogers (he had always been). Putting the tablet aside, Tony curled up in bed with a smile and eventually drifted off to sleep. For once, there were no nightmares.

*****

As Rhodey signed the final papers for the custody transfer, Bruce accompanied the guards escorting Barnes to his temporary cell. Ross’s Task Force would be in charge of him, while the Avengers took the rest of the ExVengers. No one wanted a repeat of Berlin so Rogers and Barnes would _not_ be in the same place, and Barnes would get round the clock surveillance. The UN holding facility in New York didn’t have the same security as Stark Tower, but it would have to do. And if something happened, the Avengers would be close by to deal with it.

Once Barnes was secure, Bruce spent a few moments studying him. Bruce knew what it was like to not have control over your own body, to hurt people without meaning to, so he sympathized with the man, up to an extent. The problem was that Barnes had not been controlled by Hydra the entire time. At the airport and in Siberia, he had acted of his own free will. In Berlin, he could have chosen to surrender, and attempted to prove his innocence – it would not have been hard, since he _was_ innocent. He could have told the _real_ Avengers of the threat of the Winter Soldiers and his cooperation might have earned him points with the public. In Siberia, he again could have chosen to surrender instead of fighting a man he had – however unwillingly – orphaned. _That_ was something Bruce could not forgive. He knew what it was like to have a parent murdered, so his empathy was entirely with Tony. Barnes should have stood down. As should Steve. The fact that they hadn’t – that they had in fact continued to escalate the fight and ended up nearly killing Tony in the process – made him (and the Hulk) shake with anger. Sometimes there were no choices to be had, and sometimes there were. At least Barnes seemed to feel some remorse for his part in all that mess, which certainly seemed more than he could say about Steve at the moment.

“Is Steve okay?” Barnes asked after several moments of silence.

“He’s fine, aside from the world of trouble he’s in. He’ll get a trial, just like you. I don’t know if it will be a good idea to allow the two of you to communicate, though.”

Barnes shook his head. “No, that’s fine. I just wanted to… I just wanted to know.” He looked like a broken man. “I’m sorry.”

Bruce nodded, turned and walked away.

Sorry didn’t mean much when Bruce remembered what the man had done to Tony. Of course, Bruce himself was guilty of hurting Tony, of leaving him behind without a second thought. He had been selfish, just like Barnes. He was grateful that Tony had eventually forgiven him and welcomed him back (though not without some yelling and anger, which had been entirely justified). But Bruce had never tried to kill Tony, had never lied to him or betrayed him. He may have chosen to run away rather than face his problems, but he had done so with the intention of keeping himself from hurting people further (even if, by leaving, he had caused pain as well). When he’d heard that that little witch had been made part of the team and that Tony had stepped down, Bruce had believed he’d done the right thing in leaving, never knowing how much worse things were going to get. It still made his blood boil and the Hulk roar in his head that Maximoff had been made an Avenger, and a part of him couldn’t help but wonder if he could have prevented that by staying (and thus what had happened in Lagos, and everything that had followed it).

However, there was no point in that line of thinking. What was done was done and all they could do now was move forward. Bruce had the chance to do good things now, to make up for his mistakes and protect his friends as best as he could. No more running away and hiding. This time, he would see things through to the end.

*****

T’Challa stood in the throne room, looking at the seat of the king with longing and regret. These past months he had sat there as he ruled his country, wondering all the while if he was doing the right thing, if he was honoring his father’s name, his family’s legacy.

He had actually known the answer (no, he wasn’t) all this time, but he had refused to acknowledge it, refused to admit that he was unworthy. There was no more denying it now. Wakanda was facing a terrible crisis and it could all be laid at his feet.

Shuri entered the room silently. T’Challa could feel her gaze on the back of his neck. He was afraid to turn around, to see the anger and disappointment in her eyes. Her eyes which were just like their father’s. There was a part of him, the foolishly childish part, that wanted to wail against the injustice of it, of all he was about to lose. The part that had been raised for kingship, however… that part burned with shame and cringed at the thought of what awaited him beyond these doors. The people of Wakanda. The people he had sworn to protect and yet had betrayed without a second thought.

The silence stretched until T’Challa couldn’t stand it anymore. He turned, intending to say something – though he did not know what – but the sight of his sister stopped him in his tracks. There stood a queen, he thought. Shuri was dressed in the finest of Wakandan royal attire, the sigil of their ancestors and their gods blazing from her chest, expression fierce and regal, posture strong and dignified. T’Challa felt humbled in a way he could not quite explain. He and Shuri had both been raised for the kingship, though he, by virtue of being older, had always believed the crown would be his. (Had perhaps believed that he was more deserving of it.) Now, he could see that it should have been hers all along.

“It is time, brother,” she said, not unkindly. Shuri had never been the type to gloat, and this was certainly nothing to gloat about. Their country stood on the edge of a precipice, the angry and suspicious eyes of the world upon them, and little with which to defend themselves for their (his) decisions.

With a deep breath, T’Challa squared his shoulders and started walking with feet that seemed to drag on every step.

When they entered the room from where his speech would be broadcast everyone stopped and a heavily oppressive silence fell. People averted their eyes, making T’Challa feel like a misbehaving child. This should have been done from the palace balcony, overlooking the people, as was their custom when addressing the whole kingdom, but Shuri and others had deemed it inadvisable. There was too much anger and unrest in the streets, and there was fear that a riot could break out. They were already in too much turmoil to add to it, so T’Challa would make his final proclamation as king through cameras (hiding behind them like a coward).

He settled behind the desk and took a few moments to gather his strength (and, it seemed, the last of his dignity). Finally, he nodded and the camera flicked on.

“People of Wakanda,” he said through the lump in his throat. “I come to you today to ask your forgiveness for what my ill-advised actions have caused to your lives and to our country. There is little I can say now to make it better. I am not the King my father or you wished me to be. The King our country, our people, our family deserves. For that I am truly sorry. As such, I can no longer be King. Effective immediately, I am abdicating the throne. My sister Shuri will, I am sure, be a good and just Queen, the Queen our country needs in these difficult times. From the bottom of my heart I apologize for dishonoring our nation, our gods and our ancestors. May Wakanda prosper under a better ruler.” T’Challa bowed his head and sent a silent prayer to the panther gods, to protect over his sister and Wakanda in the months to come.

Shuri took a step closer behind him and the cameras turned to her, looking noble and commanding as she sat on the chair next to him and began her pronouncement as Queen of Wakanda.

Unseen, T’Challa wept.

*****

_Clint,_

_I have been trying for months to make sense of things. To understand why you decided to abandon your family to fight in a war that wasn’t about you. I still don’t have an answer. It makes no sense to me. I don’t understand why you left us, why you broke your promise to me and the kids._

_I am angry, Clint, so angry sometimes I think I’m gonna explode from it. And the kids… did you think about the kids at all? They’re angry too. Angry and hurt and confused. They thought their father was a hero, but now you’re a criminal and they don’t understand. Neither do I. We saw what happened in Berlin and in Uganda. What was that, Clint? What were you thinking? Why did you tear our family apart? Why did you leave us behind like that? Why, Clint?_

_I’ve been told you want to talk to me, but I can’t. I can’t see you. We’re done, Clint. Our marriage is over, our family is broken and there is no putting it back together – you ended it the moment you walked out. I have a new identity and the kids and I are trying to move on with our lives without you. We’ve have to, because you haven’t been here for months._

_So this is goodbye. I had always dreaded the day I’d get a call that you’d been killed in the line of duty. It was hard, but I lived with it. Never did I think that our life together would end like this, with you becoming a criminal and going to jail. Your work as an agent, as an Avenger, I could handle, but this… I can’t handle this. So goodbye, Clint. I hope that whatever you thought you were doing, whatever you were fighting for that was more important than your family, was worth it to you, because it cost you, us, a lot._

_Laura._

The letter had arrived that morning with breakfast and Clint had already read it fourteen times. The contents hadn’t changed. Laura had left him (or maybe he’d left _her_ ). He would not be seeing his kids again for a long time (maybe not _ever_ ) and it was all Steve’s fault. Steve had called him asking for help, Steve had gotten him involved in this mess, Steve had turned them into criminals to protect his friend (and Clint had gone along with it because… because he was a moron). And now he’d lost his family, his wife, his kids. His home. His freedom. And for what? He didn’t know. He didn’t know anything anymore. Didn’t know why he’d gotten involved, why he’d left Laura and the kids, why he’d allowed his life to slip through his fingers after everything he’d been through.

Laura was right, it didn’t make any sense. And no matter who he blamed for it, the end result remained the same.

He was alone.

*****

The former Avengers’ arrest was in all the news channels, with clips from the fight at the airport and the confrontation in Uganda playing on repeat everywhere one turned. Political commentators droned on and on about the repercussion of their actions and arrest. Natasha was sick of it all.

For months she had laid low, looking over her shoulder everyday waiting for _something_ , but nothing had happened. Steve and the others hadn’t done anything to call attention to themselves until… this. Natasha couldn’t understand what they’d been trying to accomplish.

A few media outlets had also been speculating on her whereabouts, posting her picture with the ‘wanted’ sign on it. It made her clench her teeth in anger and had kept her at her shitty apartment for the past few days. As good as she was, with the whole world looking for her she would have a hard time remaining hidden. This was not how she’d thought things would go.

All her bridges were burned now. She had nowhere to go. SHIELD, though not gone, was no longer a sanctuary for her. The few people she’d tried to contact after the so-called Civil War had been quite hostile towards her, and at one encounter she had just barely escaped with her life. She had not realized how much her actions in DC had made her persona non grata with the surviving agents, too isolated and sheltered within the Avengers. She’d never had ‘friends’ per se in SHIELD (except for Clint), but now… She had no doubt that they would turn her in in a heartbeat – if they didn’t kill her on sight, that was.

The Avengers – her Avengers – were also done. Once, she might have been able to ingratiate herself back into Stark’s good graces, but now that ship had sailed. Even if Stark was inclined to give her another chance – which was doubtful – Rhodes and Bruce would never go for it. Nor would Pepper, for that matter. Steve would welcome her back with open arms, she was sure, but she had no desire to join him in prison.

Aside from SHIELD and the Avengers, Natasha had nothing. It shouldn’t bother her. After all, she’d been alone before. Most of her life, really. She knew how to take care of herself, how to survive on her own (though, of course, that was before she’d had her face plastered all over the news across the world, before she’d made an enemy out of most of the nations on the planet – and Stark).

Every day she had spent on her own these past few months, waiting for an attack that had never come, she’d missed it. The Compound, the luxurious life, the team… her family (or the closest thing she’d ever had to it). She missed Laura and the kids, she missed Clint, Steve and Sam. She missed being a part of something good, knowing she was doing the right thing, wiping out the red in her ledger.

Only, somewhere along the line, it had stopped being about her ledger and it started being about herself, about belonging, about the team ( _what team?_ a part of her asked. If they’d been a real team they wouldn’t have fallen apart as easily and as spectacularly as they had). Somehow, she’d failed to notice the cracks in their foundation; she’d taken them for granted, become complacent. Compromised. She didn’t see reality. She’d seen what she’d wanted to see, believed what she’d wanted to believe. She’d told Tony in Berlin that they had played it wrong, but it was _she_ who had played it wrong. She should have known that Steve couldn’t keep his head when it came to Barnes. She should have known that he was compromised and couldn’t be reasoned with. She should have realized that _he_ would tear the team to shreds for his friend. She should have seen it coming way back in DC and should have tried harder to keep him away from it after Vienna. Yet somehow, for some reason she could not articulate or understand, she’d thought it would be okay. That letting him go at the airport would fix it, that it would keep things together. God, she’d been stupid. Unforgivably stupid. Love was for children, and she’d acted like a foolish ignorant child who believed nothing bad could happen to her, to them. What had she been _thinking_?

Now it was all over and there was no going back, no way to fix any of it. Steve had dug his own grave and Natasha had dug hers right alongside him (and Clint and Sam and Wanda). Now, even if Tony was willing to use his political clout and influence to help them (he wouldn’t), it’d be useless. In the eyes of the world they were dangerous and a liability. She could have saved herself from this if she’d made a different choice in Berlin, and she’d been cursing herself for choosing wrong ever since.

The truth was that she had never liked Tony. He was arrogant, egotistical and irritating. He had all the characteristics she despised: the smarmy rich boy act, the overbearing demeanor, the inflated sense of self-importance, the condescending attitude, the list went on. He treated everything like a game, lording it over from his position of power and privilege and shoving it in everyone’s faces. She had tolerated him because he was useful (necessary), but she had never liked him or trusted him. She wanted to stand by her initial assessment that he was not a good candidate for the Avengers, and yet…

The Tony Stark who’d been in the news the past few months, the Stark who had rebuilt the Avengers with the public’s whole-hearted support, seemed like a different person altogether. There had been none of the obnoxious posturing, none of the arrogant superiority, just a guy getting things done. Either he’d changed completely or… Or she’d been wrong about him. Not too long ago she would have never even entertained that possibility, but now… With all the mistakes she’d made, maybe it wasn’t so crazy that she had misjudged him (as she’d misjudged Steve), that she’d seen what she wanted to see and not what was really there.

None of that changed anything, though. The so-called ExVengers were still screwed. Natasha was still screwed. And alone. Leaving the US would probably be a good idea. She was less likely to be recognized and apprehended someplace else.

It hurt to think of the life she’d had as an Avenger being gone forever, but Natasha was nothing if not pragmatic. She’d lost everything and there was no use crying over spilled milk. Now it was time to start over. She’d done it before so she could do it again. It sucked, but that was life.

Natasha turned off the TV, took a deep breath and began making plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Natasha's only appearance in this story. We'll see her fate in another story, whenever I manage to figure out what to do with her and actually write it. Suggestions are welcomed.


	8. Tell the truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have not actually read the CW comic tie-in, so I'm using elements that I've read were in it to suit the story the way I want it. I claim no accuracy.

Their new lawyers were here to speak to them and explain what would happen now. Yesterday their public defender had shown up to tell them they should each have their own lawyer, since the cases against them were not the same (and if he looked like he was trying to pass them off to someone else, Sam could hardly blame him), and he’d brought some recommendations they had all agreed to (except Wanda, who had said nothing).

The day had been very quiet. Wanda had remained completely apathetic about everything. Clint had also been uncharacteristically silent ever since Howard Stark (Sam was still trying to wrap his head around _that_ ) had left them with the realization that they’d been lied to. As much as Sam was grateful that Clint was no longer ranting angrily every five minutes, this silence was starting to worry him. A change in behavior always raised warning flags (and Sam was ashamed to say he had missed the now obvious change in behavior from Steve while they were in Wakanda: the way he’d avoided talking about what had happened in Siberia, being vague in his answers, when before he had confided in Sam; the way he had distanced himself from them, choosing to spend his time staring at Barnes’s frozen body, when before he had always made it a point of hanging out with them. Christ, Sam had missed a lot of very important signs). Steve had tried to start a conversation with them several times and had been shut down by both Sam and Clint. There was nothing he could say now that would make this better, and frankly Sam wasn’t interested in any more of his empty justifications. Steve seemed more subdued this morning, but it was hard to really tell when Sam couldn’t see him.

Vision and Bruce were also there to escort Clint and Steve to the private rooms where they could speak to their lawyers. A regular Stark security guard was Sam’s escort ( _guess I’m not threatening enough no merit an Avenger_ ) – he couldn’t decide if that was good or bad.

He was cuffed to the table anyway and it grated. Sam had never had any problem with the law before, had never been treated as a criminal (or even a suspect). Finding himself here now was… it was awful, really. And even worse when he realized that he really _was_ a criminal. Not a misunderstood or framed hero, but a real criminal with a long list of crimes to his name, some of them pretty damn serious (murder and terrorism still echoed in his head).

“Mr Wilson,” Mr Jenkins, his lawyer, said. He was probably in his 50s and was pretty average looking, of average height and weight, dark hair cut short; typical lawyer. “I’m not gonna lie, things are not looking well for you.”

“Yeah, I know.” _Now_ he knew. How could he _not_ have known it _before_? How could he have thought that everything was fine and that they’d be welcomed back as heroes? How could he have been _that_ delusional?

“The US Air Force has agreed to allow the Accords Prosecution Office to present their case against you first, but they might still demand a trial of their own later. There is a lot of very compelling evidence against you, and frankly very little sympathy. My advice is to cooperate with the investigation as best as you can and plead guilty, because it is very unlikely that you will get any other outcome.”

It was what Sam had been expecting once the full extent of his actions had gotten through, but it still terrified him. “Cooperate how?”

“Well, you can try to argue that you weren’t the one to make the decisions, but that will only get you so far. As you probably know, ‘just following orders’ is not much of a justification. On the other hand, you can say that you didn’t realize how bad things would get, that you were misled about the situation.”

“You mean you want me to incriminate Steve to save my own skin.”

“I mean you should tell the investigators the truth. And if that truth is not favorable to Mr Rogers, that’s not really your problem, is it?”

Sam’s instinct was to say no, to say he wouldn’t throw Steve under the bus, but… It wouldn’t really be that, would it? Like Jenkins said, all he had to do was tell the truth. Steve had decided to go after Barnes. Steve had fought the task force in Bucharest. Steve had fought Stark (and almost killed him). Steve had _lied_ to them about Siberia. Steve had thrown _Stark_ under the bus without a second thought to protect Barnes. Steve was not the man Sam had believed him to be. And maybe that was unfair, since Steve was just a guy, a human being with flaws like any other; he could not have been expected to be perfect. Then again, that was the problem, wasn’t it? _Steve_ had thought himself perfect (above reproach, above mistakes) and Sam had, at the very least, not challenged that when he should have (like Tony had). Steve had made mistakes, and so had Sam. Maybe it was time to admit to them. To be honest with themselves and with the world. They were not perfect.

All he had to do was tell the truth. It wasn’t a betrayal, he told himself. It was just… the truth.

It still felt like he was losing something.

*****

Clint stared straight ahead, not looking at the lawyer. Laura’s letter was still running through his head; he’d read it so many times he’d memorized it.

“Mr Barton.”

It was an effort for him to focus. The anger that had sustained him throughout the last few months seemed to have deserted him at last. He felt empty and wrung out, not unlike how he’d felt in the aftermath of the invasion, of _Loki_. He had lost control of his life again, and everything had spiraled into hell. Only this time he didn’t have the support of friends and family. He didn’t have Nat (god only knew where she was. Had she washed her hands of him too?), he didn’t have Coulson, he didn’t have Laura. He didn’t have anything anymore. SHIELD was gone, the Avengers were gone (well, the Avengers were actually still around, it was just that Clint was no longer part of it). Everything he knew was gone. Steve as a friend was gone too. Tony as a friend was gone (and now he was Tony again, not Stark. Why had Clint been so angry with him anyway?). What did he have left? What was there to salvage now?

“Mr Barton,” the lawyer said again, and Clint finally turned in the woman’s direction. She was short and a bit on the plump side, with shoulder length brown hair and brown eyes. She looked like every lawyer he’d ever met, serious and unsympathetic. He had always hated lawyers.

“What?”

“We need to discuss how you want to handle the charges against you. To work on your defense.”

“Will ‘I didn’t do it’ make a difference?”

“I doubt it, as there is plenty of evidence that you _did_ do it. The question is _why_ did you do it?”

“What difference will that make? I’m guilty either way, aren’t I?”

“Yes, but intent matters in law. So, why did you get involved? You were retired when the Accords were put on the table. Why did you join Mr Rogers and his team?”

“Because he asked me to.” And maybe because he had been bored stiff at home. Maybe he had wanted to get back into the action. Maybe civilian life had not been enough for him, not after all those years of living an adrenaline-high life. Maybe he had wanted to matter again, to do something important, save the world. Or maybe he was just an idiot.

“What did he ask you, exactly? What made you decide to attack Vision at the Compound?”

“Steve said Wanda was being held there. He implied that she was in danger. But I guess he was full of shit on that. On a lot of things, really.” Clint remembered the video from Siberia, the sight of Steve attacking Tony viciously, teaming up with his assassin buddy to beat the crap out of Tony. He remembered Steve telling them that Tony had attacked _him_ , that Steve had had no choice but to fight back. And yeah, technically that was what happened – Tony had attacked first – but he’d had reason. If it’d been Clint, and he’d seen Laura or his kids being killed, he would have shot Steve dead right then and there. Steve _and_ Barnes. And he wouldn’t have felt any remorse afterwards.

“So Mr Rogers lied to you to get your cooperation?”

What had Steve said exactly? Clint couldn’t remember now. “Yeah, I guess he did.” If not then, he had certainly lied later. Maybe he’d lied all along, about everything. Or maybe he hadn’t lied, just presented his own biased version of the truth. The truth as he believed it. And Clint had swallowed it as if it’d been gospel. Either way, things had gone to hell.

Now it didn’t even matter anymore.

*****

Bruce wouldn’t meet his eyes. Steve kept trying to talk to him, but every time he opened his month nothing would come out. It felt like all his words were just gone.

All of yesterday he’d tried. Tried to reach out to Sam, Clint and Wanda, only to be met with silence or shouts of ‘shut up’. He hated it. He hated that he didn’t know how to make things better, that he didn’t even know if things _could_ get better. It certainly didn’t seem like it now.

Howard’s words still rattled in his head ( _traitor_ , _bully_ , _disgrace_ ). As much as he wanted to deny them, deny all the accusations hurled at him, it wasn’t working as well as it once had. He’d thought he was right (he _had_ to be, he had to), but he wasn’t sure anymore and he hated it. He wished Bucky was here to tell him everything was gonna be fine, that they’d be together till the end of the line, that Steve was still the hero he had always wanted to be.

The interview room was small, just a table and a few chairs, two on each side. Bruce indicated for Steve to sit and attached his cuffed hands to the table without a sound. Then he nodded at the lawyer and walked out, closing the door behind him.

The lawyer sat across from Steve. He was colored (African-American was apparently the correct term now), almost as tall as Steve, but lean and much older, mid 60s by Steve’s estimation. His hair was almost completely gray and thinning out at the top. He also had a thin gray mustache and bright blue eyes that seemed to see straight into Steve. “We are being monitored. If you make any threatening moves, Dr Banner will subdue you. Are you ready to begin?”

Steve looked around, trying to find the camera. “Isn’t it kinda irresponsible to have the Hulk around like this? People could get hurt.”

Mr Sartini didn’t seem at all perturbed. “Dr Banner and the Hulk have proven their control. Frankly, the public is much more scared of _you_ than him. Now, are you ready to begin?”

Reluctantly, Steve nodded. He didn’t know what would happen now, and that scared him (not that he would ever admit to either of those things).

“The charges against you are very dire, Mr Rogers.”

“Captain,” Steve said. No one had called him Captain since he’d been arrested, and it bothered him, like he’d lost something important. He didn’t want to go back to being sickly Stevie. He was Captain America, he was someone important. (Was he? _You are a disgrace to the army_.)

“Mr Rogers,” Sartini repeated, “you are _not_ , in fact, a Captain. I have checked with the Army, and you were never actually given that rank. It was a stage name that stuck. And it will not help your case to remind people of your military status, or lack thereof.”

Steve felt like he’d been slapped (it seemed to be happening a lot). He was not a Captain? No, that was impossible. He was Captain America, everyone had always said so! (But he’d been given that title while he was doing the USO tour – being a dancing monkey –, _before_ he’d done anything worthwhile.)

“In any case, that’s not important right now. Right now I need you to tell me what happened, so that I might figure out how best to defend you in court. I will tell you upfront that this will be an extremely difficult case. The crimes you are accused of are very serious, and the evidence against you is very compelling. There is surveillance footage of most of it, so it will be nearly impossible to argue that you didn’t do it. The best we can hope for now is to mitigate the charges by explaining the circumstances behind your actions and decisions. So I need to know what those were, why you felt compelled to act as you did. And I need you to tell me truth.”

The implication that Steve had ever been less than truthful irritated him, but then he remembered the look on Tony’s face ( _did you know?_ ), remembered that he had not been entirely honest with his team either. God, was he really a liar? ( _Yes_ , the Howard in his head told him, _you are a liar and a traitor._ )

“I’d like to talk to Tony,” Steve blurted out. If he could just talk to Tony, explain, maybe they could fix this ( _no, you can’t, Steve. This is beyond fixing_ , he heard the words in Peggy’s voice now. _Peggy would be disgusted_.) The walls were closing in and Steve needed to _do_ something. He wasn’t a traitor and it wasn’t all over (he was and it was).

His words were met with silence. Sartini frowned a bit, as if unsure what to make of that. “I do not believe that will be possible,” he finally replied. “Or advisable.” He paused and then continued when Steve said nothing. “You are charged with the attempted murder of Mr Stark. Exactly what do you think you could possibly accomplish by speaking to him?”

“I… I can explain. I wasn’t trying to hurt him.” (Wasn’t he? It looked like he was in the video. It looked like was wanted to _kill_ Tony in the video.)

“You can explain it to me now. And then you can explain it in a court of law. So, tell me.”

Sartini was listening. It was what Steve had wanted, for someone to _listen_ , to realize why he’d done what he’d done, why he’d had to (been forced into it), why he was _right_ to do it. He’d wanted it, yet now he didn’t know what to say. Now he didn’t know if he _was_ right anymore. He didn’t know anything.

“It… it started with the Accords.” He told the truth. It had to be enough. It had to be.

*****

There was a knock on the door and Jenkins got up to open it. A man and a woman came in and sat on the chairs across from Sam. The woman was short, with shoulder length blond hair and brown eyes, while the man was similar to Sam in coloring and body type. Jenkins sat next to him.

“My name is Elizabeth Cortez,” the woman said, “and this is Ed Burlap. We are investigators with the UN Accords Panel. We are here to get your formal statement about the events of the so-called Civil War and Lagos.”

“Lagos?” Sam asked, glancing at Jenkins.

“That’s correct,” Ms Cortez replied. “Your actions there were not sanctioned by anyone and, as they resulted in tragedy and loss of life, a review must be conducted to prevent similar incidents in the future. Had the Civil War not happened, it would have been done right after the signing of the Accords. However, it is only now that the individuals involved in it are available for questioning and review.” She gave him a hard unforgiving look. “Shall we begin?”

“Mr Wilson is fully prepared to cooperate,” Jenkins said.

Sam felt himself hunching in, but there was no escaping it now. He should have known that they’d want to talk about Lagos. It was what had started this whole mess in the first place.

“Tell me about the decision to go to Lagos.”

 _Tell the truth_ , Sam thought. _It’s just the truth_. With a deep breath, he began.

“Steve, Natasha and I had been looking for Barnes ever since we found out he was alive after that business in DC. Steve was sure he’d broken out of Hydra’s conditioning and he wanted to find him and help him. Bring his friend home. So we’d all been chasing leads on his whereabouts, going places he might be. Lagos was one of them.”

“So Lagos wasn’t about Hydra terrorists?”

“Not when we left New York. It was just going to be me and Steve, but Nat heard we had a lead and offered to join us ‘cause she had contacts in the area, so she came along. And Wanda was around, so she asked to come too.” He hesitated, then went on. “Steve thought it’d be a good opportunity to get her on the field.” Even though at that point she hadn’t had a whole lot of training (still didn’t, come to think of it, and they’d taken her to Uganda anyway. Jesus. No wonder people didn’t think they could be trusted).

“What about Mr Vision and Col Rhodes? Why weren’t they invited?”

Sam hadn’t thought much of it at the time. Steve had said Bucky was a personal matter and there was no need to involve the others (though they had still used the Avengers’ – _Tony’s_ – resources, like the Quinjet – _Jesus Christ_ ). In the video of Siberia the other day it seemed clear that Steve had known about Barnes being responsible for the Starks’ murders. So maybe the reason he hadn’t wanted the others involved had nothing to do with it being personal. Maybe it had simply been about keeping Tony (and his friends) in the dark. _Jesus_. A week ago, Sam would not have believed Steve could be so selfish and deceitful, but now, having seen that video…

“Mr Wilson?”

Sam shook his head. “I don’t know. Steve said it was personal, but I don’t know anymore.” (Didn’t he? It seemed pretty obvious now. It had all been about Bucky, as always). “In any case, Rhodes wasn’t there all the time. He had his work with the Air Force.” Sam could admit now that he’d resented Rhodes a bit for having the kind of career Sam had once dreamed of. And Steve had never really trusted Rhodes (because he was loyal to Tony? Because he would not follow Steve blindly like the rest of them had?). The more he thought about it, the more disillusioned and _used_ he felt.

“So when did it become about Hydra terrorists?”

“When we were almost there. Nat got in touch with her contacts and they told her about a rumor about Rumlow. Since we were already on our way, we figured we’d check it out. Rumlow was on our list of Hydra operatives still at large.” And he might have had information about Barnes, which Steve must have realized.

“And why did you not inform local authorities about the possible threat?”

That… That was a really good question, wasn’t it? At the time, it had not occurred to Sam that they should have (though it seemed rather painfully obvious now, didn’t it?). They’d never done so while chasing Bucky leads, but none of those had ever involved a confrontation in a heavily populated area – they’d all been mostly dead ends. Only in a couple of occasions had they actually found a Hydra hideout with Hydra people in them, and they’d taken care of it (with no one any the wiser). Lagos was different. Lagos had been an actual op – at least once they’d confirmed Rumlow was really there. Getting in touch with locals had never been Sam’s job, either in the military or in the Avengers, so he didn’t think of it. Steve… he didn’t know what Steve had thought (if he’d thought anything at all).

“I… I don’t know,” he said as last, ashamed of his ignorance and thoughtlessness.

Cortez’s expression didn’t change, yet Sam could feel the disapproval from her and the other guy. “Tell me what happened.”

Sam took a deep breath. Now that he was sitting here in front of the investigators, he cringed at every one of their decisions. Still, there was nothing to do but admit it all.

“We thought Rumlow would target the police station.”

“Why?”

Again, Sam didn’t really know. He hadn’t really questioned anything, had he? Just followed along like a dumb sheep. “I don’t know. Natasha gave us that info. I don’t know how she got it.” And obviously they had done nothing to actually confirm it. Jesus.

“So what did you do?”

“I took the roof to keep an eye on it. Cap – Steve – took position in a building across from the station. Nat and Wanda stayed on the ground nearby.”

“And what was the plan?”

Sam sighed. “Get Rumlow when he showed up, I guess. We didn’t really have time for much.” Not that it excused it, of course.

“Did you clear the streets?”

“I…” Sam hesitated. It had seemed so easy and so clear then. Now… “We hoped to apprehend them before a fight broke out.”

“Yes, of course that would be the ideal outcome. However, what if you were unable to do so? Like it actually happened? Were there any contingency plans? Did any of you make any effort to protect the public?” _Did you worry about it at all?_ Sam heard, even though she didn’t actually say it.

Had they? Sam wanted to believe they’d done the right thing. That they’d had the people’s well being at heart. Looking back on it now, though, it was difficult to argue that since their actions, as seen from the outside, certainly didn’t support that. In the aftermath, when they were being crucified by the media, Steve had made a grand speech about how they couldn’t save everyone and Sam had simply nodded. However, Howard Stark had been right that what happened in Lagos didn’t have to happen. Nor had what happened in Uganda. They’d made mistakes – huge mistakes – and been careless. Worst of all, they had refused to acknowledge it. The world had asked them to stop, and for some reason they’d refused to listen ( _dangerously arrogant_ ). How could they have thought that they knew better ( _the safest hands are our own_ )? That they _were_ better?

“I don’t know,” he said at last, shame burning deep in his gut. “We just…” _Tell the truth_. “I guess we were so caught up in catching Rumlow that… we didn’t really think things through.”

Cortez expression tightened, but she remained professional. “Then what happened?”

“We realized that they were going for the research facility and tried to intercept them, but they got the… biological weapon, I guess.”

“You don’t know what they took?”

“Not exactly. Just that it was dangerous. I mean, why else would they want it?” He shrugged. “Anyway, we chased them to get it back.”

“In the middle of a crowded market.” _With no thought to the civilians around_. Though her voice didn’t change, the disapproval was quite clear, as was the unsaid part.

What was there to say? “Yeah.”

“You said Mr Rogers wanted this mission to be an opportunity for Miss Maximoff. Had she trained for that kind of thing? Containing an explosion?”

Again, it was only now that Sam realized there had actually been very little real training of the ‘new’ recruits. Sam didn’t need it, as he’d had plenty of training in using the Falcon suit, and Rhodes sure as hell didn’t, but Wanda and Vision had been new (in Vision’s case, _really_ new), so it was necessary. They’d spent some time on it, getting a feel for what each of them could do, and then it just kinda… stopped. Was it because Steve had figured they’d done enough, or had he just gotten distracted with the search for Barnes? (There had been a lot of leads to chase then, Strucker’s death having shaken things up with Hydra again.) Sam wasn’t sure what kind of personal training Wanda had done, if any. He hadn’t even thought about it – and in his defense, it wasn’t his job, was it? Steve was the team leader, it should have been his responsibility. Except Sam was now realizing that _Steve_ himself had had very little training, and didn’t really seem to know what he was doing. God, had Sam really been so blinded by _Captain America_ that he had completely ignored everything that might have been a problem? (Yes.) When had he turned off his _brain_? He’d accused Rhodes of selling out and it had been Sam who had completely forgotten his training and his duty. _Christ_.

“Mr Wilson?”

“I don’t know.” He didn’t know anything, did he? He hadn’t _wanted_ to know. He hadn’t _cared_. He was an Avenger, fighting alongside Captain America, and for some reason that had been enough. What had he been _thinking_?

“There was no training for Miss Maximoff?” Cortez asked again. Sam was starting to feel the walls closing in again.

“There was, a bit, but I don’t think it covered containing explosions. That… none of that was supposed to happen.” And yet people were still dead, weren’t they? Collateral damage. _We can’t save everyone_. No, they couldn’t. But had they even _tried_? Had they cared about the casualties, about those they _hadn’t_ saved? (No.) “I’m sorry,” he said, too little and far, _far_ too late. “I’m so sorry.” Sam lowered his head, blinking away the tears.

“Tell me about the Civil War.”

Sam swallowed hard and squared his shoulders. _Just tell the truth_. He could at least do that much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the moment, Team Cap is more focused on their own problems (which are considerable) than the mystery of Howard Stark's resurrection. They are, after all, very selfish people.


	9. Grow up

“So now what?” Bruce asked after they were all seated, the Avengers and the representatives from the UN.

“The defendants have spoken to their new attorneys and are aware of the charges against them.” Ms Pomeroy, head of the Accords Prosecution Department and lead prosecutor on the case, said.

“Even Miss Maximoff?” Vision asked. “She has behaved in a very apathetic manner since her capture.”

“No, with the exception of Miss Maximoff. A psychologist has been arranged to speak to her. They will be here tomorrow morning.”

“I’ll need this person’s info to clear it with security,” Tony said.

Ms Pomeroy nodded and jotted something down on her tablet. “You will get it by the end of the day. A thorough background check has been conducted, Mr Stark, but of course feel free to double check it.” No one wanted what had happened Berlin to happen again. “The UN investigators will soon have official statements from the defendants, as questioning has already begun, and evidence is being compiled for their trials. We hope to begin as soon as possible, as the victims of their crimes have already waited long enough.”

Bruce was glad to hear it. The sooner they could get this done the better. “What about Scott Lang?”

“He still has to answer for his parole violation in the San Francisco court,” Pomeroy answered. “Since he wasn’t involved in Uganda – in fact, it was him who alerted the Wakandan authorities that that was the rogues’ destination, allowing them to warn the Ugandan and UN forces, as well as the Avengers – the charges against him are less severe.” If one considered destroying an airport and nearly killing several people as less severe (and sadly, it was, as the others had even more destruction and actual murder to face).

“But he’s been charged with the theft of the Ant-Man suit, hasn’t he?” Rhodey asked, looking at Pomeroy and Hope.

The latter sighed. “He’s agreed to plead guilty to that and to all other charges in exchange for being able to remain in the San Francisco prison, near his family.” Hope shook her head. “My father filled his head with prejudice against Tony, which I think contributed to his idiocy, so we feel partially responsible.”

Tony said nothing to that. It enraged Bruce (and the Hulk) that people who barely knew Tony thought they had the right to judge him and treat him poorly (like Steve and the others had done). He certainly hoped Hank Pym would apologize for it at some point.

Hope continued, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Scott isn’t a bad person, he’s just… stupid.”

Rhodey didn’t seem particularly inclined to be forgiving on the grounds of stupidity, and frankly neither did Bruce. “He still has to answer for what he did at the airport,” Rhodes said. He didn’t look down at the braces he still wore, but he didn’t have to. They were all very much aware of what that fight had cost him.

“Yes, of course.” Hope lowered her head. It wasn’t Hope’s fault, but… grief made it hard to be rational.

“Mr Lang is aware of that, and, as I understand it, has done his best to cooperate,” Pomeroy said. “We have no objection to him serving his sentence is San Francisco. Without the suit, he is not a security risk. However, he will be transferred to New York to testify in the trials once they begin.”

“How long will that take?” Tony asked.

“We estimate a few weeks to get everything ready and for the defense to have the chance to build their case. Most of you will likely be called to testify. We will let you know when, and help prep you for it. If you have any questions, please call my office.” She gestured to the man on her right. “Mr Burlap here will remain as liaison between the UN Accords Panel and the Avengers in the matter of the renegades’ trial for whatever is necessary.”

There were a few more technical questions, and some updates from the Accords Committee about how the situation was being handled in both Uganda and Wakanda, then the meeting was over.

“So, T’Challa is not king anymore, huh?” Rhodey said. No one was really surprised by that.

Bruce shrugged. “Let’s hope his sister will do a better job as ruler.”

Rhodey snorted. “She’d be hard pressed to do worse. I mean, you can’t really top going on a revenge rampage through a foreign city in the list of bad decisions. Not to mention hiding international terrorists.” He shook his head. “I’d still like to know what the hell the man was thinking.”

It was quite obvious to them now that T’Challa had been in Siberia with Tony, Rogers and Barnes, and hadn’t done a thing to help his supposed teammate, which made them all angry. Bruce could not understand why T’Challa had simply walked away leaving an injured Tony behind. Losing the throne didn’t really seem like enough punishment for that – or for what he’d done in Bucharest. Perhaps now that he was no longer king the Accords Panel would be able to actually charge him with something. Bruce made a mental note to talk to Pomeroy about that.

“All right, guys. We’re off the clock. Let’s go and relax a bit, okay?”

Bruce smiled at Tony and nodded. That definitely sounded like a good plan.

*****

Maria had prepared a big dinner for everyone, making Howard help her because he was, in her own words, driving her insane with his agitation. He couldn’t help it. He’d thought talking to Steve would help, but it hadn’t really. For a while, certainly, but then the next day he’d watched the bastard on the security cameras and the rage had come rushing back. Friday had cut the feed and now refused to show him anymore, saying it didn’t “seem to be conductive to your health and well-being, Mr Stark.”

It’d gotten a little better when Tony had finally come home and Howard could see with his own eyes that his son was unharmed, even if he’d been exhausted. Now, however, the restlessness was back with a vengeance. Howard had even tried to get a drink, only to remember that Maria had gotten rid of it all. Friday, of course, had refused to help him – she had, in fact, threatened to tell on him. He was being managed by an Artificial Intelligence, one he couldn’t escape because she was everywhere in the Tower. He’d actually thought about going out, before realizing she’d be unlikely to allow that either.

What he needed was something to distract him – which was why Maria had been cooking in the first place, and why she’s conscripted his help. However reluctant he’d been at first, he had to admit it was better than pacing around in frustration.

Tony was the first to arrive, followed by Bruce and Rhodes. Vision came up through the floor (everyone had given up on getting him to use doors and the elevator. Unless he was with someone, he said it was just much more practical to use the direct way. He did check with Friday that he wouldn’t give anyone a heart attack first, though.) Hope was the last to show up and there seemed to be a bit of tension in the air between her and the others that Howard didn’t understand.

Everyone made appreciative noises at the food and complimented Maria on it, and generally chatted on in as relaxed a manner as possible, given they were all ignoring the elephant in the room. Howard wasn’t sure it was a good thing or not. On one hand, he wanted to be done with those traitors and not let their existence (and their presence in the Tower – their _home_ ) interfere with their lives any more than necessary. On the other hand, he apparently still had a lot of unresolved anger and bitterness to let go of, and this avoidance made that harder. Still, he tried to concentrate on the moment. He was alive, and his family was here with him (except Jarvis, who he still missed), and those fucking criminals were behind bars (or rather reinforced glass) where they belonged.

“You all right, dad?” Tony asked after dinner while the others were helping Maria with the clean up and Howard was staring out the window. The view from up here really was amazing.

Howard shook his head, not sure how to answer that.

“Dad…”

“I thought I’d feel better,” he said when it seemed like Tony had no more idea what to say than him. “I thought catching them, even speaking to him, would make me feel better, but it didn’t. I’m still… I still want to bash his fucking head in.”

His statement was greeted with silence and Howard finally turned to look at his son.

“Don’t do that, dad. Don’t… don’t let that… anger… be all there is. He’s done. They all are. It’s over. It’s not… it’s not worth twisting yourself into knots over. They don’t deserve it.” Tony looked a bit sad, but mostly concerned. For him, Howard realized.

“It’s not right, Tony.”

“No, but it’s done. And it’s time to move on. It’s not easy, I know. But… he doesn’t get to take anything more from us. Not if we don’t let him.”

It sounded good, Howard thought. Move on, leave Steve fucking Rogers in the past along with all the shit Howard could do nothing about now.

“Can you really do that?” he asked.

Tony shrugged. “Not always, but I keep trying. It’s all we can do.”

 _Yeah, all we can do_. “Well, haven’t you got all old and wise,” he said, wanting to lighten the mood. _Move on_.

“Old, yes. Wise, I’m not so sure.” Tony grinned. “Come on, enough of the maudlin thoughts.”

Howard let himself be pulled back into the room to join the others. It was still odd sometimes to look at Tony and realize that his boy had grown – grown into a man Howard was truly proud of.

*****

There was a woman outside her cell. Wanda noticed her but didn’t move from her spot, sitting in the corner with her back against the wall.

“Miss Maximoff,” the woman said, coming closer and tapping on the glass as if Wanda was an animal in the zoo. A part of her wanted to lunge forward and rip the woman’s head from her shoulders the way she’d once heard a Hydra operative brag about (she had felt sick at the time, as had Pietro). She wanted it, but she could do nothing now that her powers were gone. She had hoped that maybe the collar would lose its effectiveness over time (and she’d dreamed of killing Stark and the others – like Vision, who had betrayed her), yet it hadn’t happened. The accursed thing was still around her neck and her powers still beyond her reach.

“Miss Maximoff.” It was said more forcefully. Wanda still refused to acknowledge it. “I’m Dr Yates from the United Nations Accords Panel. I’m here to speak to you, to make sure you understand what is happening and that you are competent to assist in your own defense at the coming trial.”

Competent, Wanda thought. Did they think she was an idiot? That she didn’t understand? It grated on her, how these people presumed to know anything about her, about what she’d been through; how they dared to judge her and call her a criminal. Wanda deeply regretted ever trying to help these ingrates. She should have left them all to burn. She should have saved only Pietro. No one else had ever cared about her.

“If you do not cooperate, Miss Maximoff,” Yates said, “you will be deported to your home country of Sokovia, and it is my understanding that they are not particularly inclined to be accommodating or merciful.”

Wanda scoffed. This woman dared threaten her, as if she wasn’t planning on throwing her in jail anyway. What difference did it make if it was here or in Sokovia?

“The Sokovians are considering executing you for your crimes.”

Wanda finally stood and approached the glass. Dr Yates was about the same height and built as Wanda, with shoulder-length dark hair tied in a pointy tail – she seemed perfectly ordinary. _If I had my powers_ , she thought, _I would have you writhing on the floor in agony_. Unfortunately, no matter how hard she tried, no trace of red mist came. The one thing that had made Wanda special, that had made her _strong_ , was gone. Gone because of these people, because of Stark and Vision, who had taken it from her.

“Do you think I’m scared?” Wanda asked. (She was. She didn’t want to die, not like this, like a cornered animal, but she would not show fear).

“I think you should be. And I think, if you want to help yourself, you will start talking to me.”

“Why? You don’t care about me. I can see it in your eyes. You don’t care at all.” No one cared about her. The only one who had ever cared was Pietro, and he was gone. Dead.

“It’s not my job to care about you, Miss Maximoff. My job is to ascertain whether you are competent to stand trial, to assess your mental state.”

There was that word again, competent. How dare this woman insinuate she was an idiot? “I’m not an idiot,” Wanda hissed. For the first time in days, she felt her anger come back to her, felt it pool and burn in her stomach.

“It isn’t a matter of intelligence, Miss Maximoff. Competency is a legal term. It means that you are of sound mind, that you understand what is happening, why you are here, what’s going to happen now.”

“I understand perfectly! You imprisoned me because we wouldn’t sign your stupid Accords! Because we refused to bow down to you!” Wanda wondered why Steve and the others weren’t saying anything, why they hadn’t tried to defend her. Had they betrayed her too?

Yates frowned. “We should talk somewhere else. There is a room set up. Will you accept that?”

Wanda narrowed her eyes and nodded. Yates gestured to someone outside Wanda’s field of vision and a security guard appeared with a gun in his hand, though he was pointing it at the ground, not at her. Wanda and the man looked at each other suspiciously.

Yates noticed Wanda’s expression. “This is a mandatory security measure, Miss Maximoff, a precaution only. As long as you don’t make any threatening moves, you have nothing to worry about.” She paused, as if waiting for something. “Will you cooperate?”

Reluctantly, Wanda nodded again and stepped back to wait for the door to open. She considered rushing at the other woman anyway, but decided against it. Without her powers she had no chance and she remembered how Steve and Clint had been subdued in that other prison.

As she passed the other cells, she realized that Clint’s and Steve’s were empty (she presumed Sam’s too), and dread began to fill her. What had been done to the others? They left the area where the cells were and walked through a short corridor and then into another longer and larger one, with doors on both sides and three more security guards, who watched the newcomers silently. There were windows into the rooms, and as they passed Wanda saw Sam, Clint and Steve talking to people inside. Yates opened a door towards the end. Like the other rooms, there was only a table and chairs on either side. Wanda hesitated, then, seeing no alternative, walked inside and sat on one of the chairs. The security guard held up a pair of handcuffs and Wanda tensed.

“This is just a precaution, Miss Maximoff,” Yates repeated. “It’s standard procedure.”

“Did you do this to the others?” she asked. “Steve? Clint? Sam?”

“We have just seen them in the other rooms, speaking to their lawyers. And yes, they are all restrained. When we are done here, you will return to your cell unharmed.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“It is the same thing that happened yesterday. Do you not remember? Your friends came to these rooms and then returned.”

Yes, Wanda remembered, though she had not paid much attention then, still locked in her own misery. Slowly, she relaxed, and allowed the guard to secure her right hand to the table. With that done, the man nodded at Yates and left.

“Now,” the doctor began, taking a seat across from Wanda. “You have been very quiet since arriving here. Why?”

“What is there to say? You have all made up your minds about me anyway.” Wanda despised them all. She was trapped here, in this prison, just like before. At the Compound, in the Raft, in Wakanda. Prisons after prisons, cells after cells.

“The other day you refused to say anything concerning a lawyer for your defense.”

“Did you not hear me? It makes no difference. Your have already decided I’m guilty.” It had all gone wrong the moment those Accords came into place. That’s what Steve had said back in Wakanda, that the Accords were to blame. But the other man, Stark’s father (how could that be? It wasn’t fair. Why should Stark get his family back and not her?) had talked about Lagos too. And what had happened in Siberia. Wanda remembered watching the video of Stark and Steve fighting (how long ago had that been?), and feeling nothing. She ought to have relished in Stark’s suffering, but she hadn’t really cared. She had still been sitting in a cell while he walked free, so in the end she had lost and he had won, so it hadn’t mattered. If only Steve had actually killed him… Maybe they wouldn’t be here now. (Or maybe they’d be in a different prison).

“Why do you think that?” Yates asked, pulling Wanda back to the present. Her anger was returning now.

“Why? I’m locked up, aren’t I?” she said, voice raised, gesturing around the room with her free hand. “You have put me in a cage, with this,” she touched the collar in disgust “around my neck.”

“And why is that?”

Wanda snarled and shifted forward, wanting to reach out and strangle the woman, but she took a deep breath and sat back. She would not be goaded like this, she was smarter than that. “You people want me locked up. Because of Lagos, even though that was not my fault. I saved people! I saved people and you locked me up in that awful place. And now here.”

“And what about the people that you killed?” Yates’s tone was even and calm, her eyes fixed on Wanda’s. When Wanda said nothing, she went on. “You are locked up because you have proven yourselves dangerous. You and your companions have caused death and destruction and cannot be trusted not to attempt to escape, as you have done so several times. This place has been chosen because it offers the best security.” She folded her hands atop the table. “You are not here because of the Sokovia Accords, but because each of you has committed multiple crimes, crimes which would still exist even without the Accords. Also, this is the kind of thing that your lawyer would be able to explain to you. So, why did you refuse legal counsel?”

Wanda didn’t know what to say. She thought back to what she and the others had been told since they were captured, the list of crimes against them. The Accords had not been specifically mentioned. Steve had said the Accords were the problem, but the other Stark – the one that shouldn’t exist – had said Steve didn’t know anything. Was that true? Had Steve lied to her? He had lied to them, hadn’t he, about what had happened with Stark. He had never said anything about the video of Stark’s parents dying (a part of her had been glad – now Stark would know how she felt – while another part had been horrified), had never really explained what had happened.

“You have not yet been convicted, Miss Maximoff. You will have a chance to present a defense in court, but to do that you must speak to a lawyer.” She paused, but still Wanda said nothing, thoughts circling round and round in her head. What could she do? “Is it a monetary issue? Are you concerned about being able to afford a lawyer?”

Money had not occurred to her. Ever since she and Pietro had joined Hydra they had not had to worry about it. Hydra had provided for them. Then, after Pietro had died, Wanda had been with the Avengers and in Wakanda, where she’d not had to worry about money either. Did she even _have_ money? She hadn’t even thought about it. What if she didn’t? She vaguely remembered the others talking to their lawyers about payment.

“We can arrange for a public defender if that is a problem,” Yates said, making Wanda feel incredibly foolish for not having thought of this. “Miss Maximoff, this silent and apathetic behavior will not help you in court at all. Quite the contrary, as I have already told you. So you really need to start talking.”

“Are you threatening me?” Everything had gone wrong, she didn’t really understand what this was all about and it scared her. This stupid woman sitting in front of her in her pressed suit could do anything and Wanda had nothing with which to fight. Nothing.

“No. I am simply telling you what is going on now and what is going to happen. If you want to profess your innocence for all to hear, you are welcome to do so, but for that you will have to _speak_.”

“Speak? Speak? No one listens! No one listened before!” she shouted. “What about this?” She touched the collar again. “You put it on me, like an animal!”

Yates expression didn’t change. “That collar was put on you because you have killed over 40 people with your powers, Miss Maximoff. You have shown, time and time again, a willingness to attack with deadly force. Tell me, Miss Maximoff, why should anyone trust that will you not attack again if it is removed?”

Wanda shook her head. “It wasn’t my fault! I was attacked! I had to defend myself!”

“Who attacked you?”

“Those men in… wherever that place was, where we were caught. They pointed guns at me. What was I supposed to do? Just let them kill me?”

The doctor looked at her coldly now. “They attacked you because you attacked them first. You and your companions invaded their country – Uganda – and proceeded to engage in a fight that was not yours, causing death and destruction. As far as they were concerned, you were dangerous criminals who simply came in and started an unprovoked attack on their people.”

“That’s not what happened! We were there to help them!”

“Who asked you?” Wanda opened her mouth, but nothing came out. “Who gave you the right to invade a country and do whatever you wanted? Who gave you the right to attack those people?”

“I can’t control other people’s fear, only my own,” Wanda said. It was not her fault. It wasn’t. She was only doing the best she could.

“You can when people fear you because you show no concern for anyone but yourself. You are no longer a child, Miss Maximoff, so stop acting like one.” Yates’s voice cracked like a whip and Wanda flinched.

“I am not a child!” she protested.

“Yes, I know. I said you are _acting_ like one, refusing to take responsibility for your actions and sulking in a corner. Grow up. You are in a lot of trouble, Miss Maximoff, and this behavior is not helping matters at all.”

It had been a long time since anyone had spoken to Wanda like that, and it made her defensive and unsure. She could see no way out of this, and despair filled her heart again as her vision became blurry with unshed tears.

“Miss Maximoff,” Yates’ voice was gentler now and Wanda hastily wiped her eyes. “Can I speak to the lawyer to come see you? Will you cooperate with your own defense?”

Wanda nodded, still lost. What would Pietro have told her to do, if he was here? She didn’t know. She didn’t know anything anymore. She missed her brother now more than ever. She didn’t want to be alone.

“Help me,” she asked. Begged. “Help me.”


	10. Take responsibility

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jumping forward in time a bit. We're almost at the trial now.

James (no longer Bucky) heard the outer door open and stood up, carefully putting his tablet aside. Since it was rather difficult for him to read a book with only one hand, he’d been given what they called an e-reader, so James had slowly been catching up with what had happened in the world since he’d been… changed.

After two weeks in the UN prison, James had fallen into a routine. He read in the morning (both things recommended by his doctor as well as his own choices), and after lunch he had his appointment with Doctor Flores. At first he’d been wary – he couldn’t help remember Zemo and the Hydra doctors – but despite his misgivings, it had been going well. Dr Flores was a nice man, with a calm and soothing demeanor who didn’t demand things from James and made him feel safe and at ease. James had been told that, at the moment, there was no way to remove Hydra’s triggers from his mind, though he could still work on finding himself again. Dr Flores had helped him remember more about his life before, when he’d been Bucky, which was a good thing. He’d never be completely whole again, but it was starting to get better. Calling himself James had helped, as he could acknowledge who he was now while not feeling pressured into being that long-dead person – it was a first step to becoming someone new.

He would likely be imprisoned for a long time yet, but it didn’t bother him very much at the moment. He was safe and the rest of the world was safe from him, so it was good enough. He felt like he could breathe, finally, and not have to look over his shoulder for Hydra every second of the day. He had a roof over his head, food, reading material, the doctor to help him get his head back in order, and no need to do anything but exist quietly. After all the years of Hydra and the stress-filled years on his own, it was the closest thing to peace he had found (and frankly, the world outside was terrifying for many different reasons).

After the session with the doctor, James would talk to the UN investigators about what he remembered regarding the Hydra assassinations he’d been forced to carry out. That was the worst part of the day, but he knew it was important, so he didn’t complain. It was always awful to talk about those horrible things he’d had to do, to think of all the innocent people who’d ended up dead by his hands, but he owed it to their families to tell the investigators the truth, to give people closure. The Starks’ murder was the first he’d talked about – and the most painful, because he had known Howard and still it hadn’t mattered. It hadn’t been enough to stop the Soldier. (It hadn’t been enough to stop himself from attacking his grieving son either.)

The investigators also asked about Hydra bases and important leaders, as well as weapons and technology they’d had, though James rarely had information about that. It helped when he was shown pictures of places and people, because names and dates were hard for him to remember – most of the time, he hadn’t even known who he was killing, why or when. Still, he did his best.

Some days, instead of the Winter Soldier, he talked to the investigators and his lawyer about the coming trial, about the Civil War. It was better than talking about Hydra, but it still involved talking about people he’d hurt (and mostly without the excuse of being mind controlled).

Once that was over, he was allowed one hour in the facility’s courtyard for, as they said, “fresh air” – under heavy guard, of course. James had seen War Machine (that was, he’d learned, the name of the other Iron Man) watching him from above a few times, and once another weird-looking guy he was told was another Avenger named Vision. More often than not, however, it was just the regular guards with their guns. James usually sat in the bench in the middle of the yard and closed his eyes, soaking up the sun. It was his favorite part of the day.

Then he was taken to the showers and finally back to his cell, where he had dinner and sat on his bed reading until lights out. It was somewhat lonely, but not too bad. James didn’t entirely trust himself around people anyway – and it wasn’t like he had friends he could see.

The day went exactly as predicted, and at night James found himself once again contemplating the letters he’d gotten from Steve. There were seven in total, though he’d only read the first three.

When he’d been given the first letter, a few of days after arriving at the prison, he’d been hesitant. The short time he’d spent with Steve during the so-called Civil War had made him realize that neither he nor Steve were the same men they’d been back then, before everything had gone to hell. More than that, he was uncomfortable with the new Steve, and reading the letter had made him even more so. The person Steve was talking to no longer existed, even if James remembered him better now – that Bucky seemed more like an old acquaintance than himself. The letter had ended with a plea for Bucky (who was gone) to write back and tell Steve he was all right. Obviously, James couldn’t do that. He wasn’t Bucky anymore, and he was not ‘all right’, even if he was better than he had been while under Hydra’s control. And the Steve from the letter was not his Stevie, the little scrawny guy who wouldn’t keep his head down even when he should – he _still_ apparently couldn’t keep his head down when he should, but he was no longer little and that was a big problem. The more James had learned about the Civil War and what had happened afterwards, the more he felt that keeping a distance was the best thing to do. Dr Flores had told him he didn’t have to reply if he didn’t want to, so he hadn’t. He wouldn’t have known what to say anyway.

Then the second letter had arrived and it was just like the first, only this time with a more urgent and desperate tone – Steve seemed worried that ‘Bucky’ was being mistreated. So, reluctantly, James had written back that he was okay, he was being treated fairly and that he was doing better. He’d said he needed some time to figure out who he was now and what he was going to do, and that he also needed some distance. He’d signed it ‘James’.

It was when he’d read the third letter that James realized Steve wasn’t listening. He’d thought perhaps that it had been written before his response, but Steve mentioned being glad he was speaking to a doctor and a passing reference to something James had said. Everything else had been totally ignored. He was still addressed as ‘Bucky’ and the plea for time and distance went obviously unheard. James could see echoes of the friend he remembered in the letter, but the forceful and demanding tone was at odds with the Steve he’d known. So he hadn’t replied.

The next four letters he hadn’t even opened, wary of their contents and nervous about how they made him feel – sad and anxious. He hadn’t been able to throw them out either, so every now and then he looked at them, wondering what he should do.

There was a part of him that missed his old self and his friend, but at the same time he knew that those days were gone and that he _needed_ to keep that in mind or he’d lose what little sanity he had left. There was a part of him that worried about Steve, and he’d asked Dr Flores and his lawyer for information about him, but still James couldn’t bring himself to actually _talk_ to the man anymore. Not now, not until he felt more secure in himself as he was now. He felt bad that Steve had gotten in trouble because of him – even though he hadn’t asked the man for help, had in fact stayed _away_ from him as much as he could – but he felt even worse for the innocent bystanders who had been hurt because of them both. They both had to take responsibility and face the consequences of that, and James didn’t think he could do that (which also involved facing what he’d been and who he was now) _and_ worry about Steve at the same time.

With a last sigh, he put the letters away and settled into his bed to wait for lights out. He was still getting used to the feel of his body without that blasted arm (which he was glad to have gone), so it took him a moment to find a comfortable position. He’d been offered a new prosthetic arm, but he’d declined, worried about what might be hidden in it and because he was less likely to hurt people this way. Maybe, once he was better, he’d change his mind. For now he was okay with being only flesh and blood, no artificial parts or any kind. It was awkward doing things one-handed, but it gave him some peace of mind to be entirely human again (well, mostly; he still had the serum, but that wasn’t visible). For the first time in a long time, he could look in the mirror and not see Hydra. That was good enough for him. 

*****

Steve finished his breakfast and put the tray back in the compartment, watching it disappear behind the nearly invisible little door. He glanced around his cell and his eyes fell on Bucky’s letter. He’d read it a hundred times by now and every time it hurt a bit more. He’d hoped that he could have at least talked to his friend through letters, but aside from that one Bucky hadn’t responded. Mr Sartini had sworn that Bucky was fine, that he was getting the help he needed from a qualified psychologist and was, by all reports, doing as well as could be expected. He was unable to give details because of ‘doctor-patient confidentiality’, so Steve had had to be content with that. He’d asked, many times, why, if that was the case, Bucky hadn’t written back, and every time the answer had been that Sartini didn’t know – and Steve would read the letter again and see the part about Bucky needing time and distance. He still didn’t want to believe it meant time and distance from _him_ , though that was how it seemed. He kept writing anyway to let Bucky know he wasn’t alone, that Steve would be there for him when he needed it – because he’d failed once and he couldn’t bear to fail again.

These past couple of weeks in prison had been horrible, but at least he knew that Bucky was all right (imprisoned as well, but physically all right). Steve just wished he could talk to him in person or on the phone. He’d asked, again and again, and been denied. “Maybe after the trial is done,” Sartini had said.

Steve still wasn’t sure what to think of his lawyer. The man had listened as Steve had explained his side, why he’d had to act as he did, and, while he hadn’t agreed with him, he hadn’t accused or judged him either (like Howard had done – and Steve tried very hard not to think about that. He’d half convinced himself he’d hallucinated the whole thing since he hadn’t seen the man since. It couldn’t have been true anyway, right? Dead people don’t come back to life). So far most of what he’d done was explain to Steve what was going on and what the prosecution was going to say and who would be called as witnesses against him.

It had been disappointing (frightening) to realize explaining his side hadn’t been the end. Sartini kept telling him he should accept a deal and plead guilty, but Steve refused. He wasn’t a criminal, and he knew people would listen. (Wouldn’t they?) They had to.

Sam and Clint weren’t talking to him anymore (or to each other), and Wanda mostly only talked to her lawyer and the doctor lady who came to see her sometimes. Even though they were all together here, the silence in the cells was horribly oppressive. Steve couldn’t help remember the last time he’d tried to explain himself to the others. It had been a week ago, when Steve couldn’t stand the silence and despair anymore.

“Sam? Clint? Come on, talk to me. I know you’re angry, but you have to understand. Please, just… let me explain.” There had been no answer and Steve had punched the wall in frustration and pain.

“Mr Rogers, calm yourself or I will be forced to sedate you.” The Tower’s AI, Friday, had said.

“Go ahead and do it,” Clint had said. “I don’t want to hear his half-assed excuses anyway. It might be the only thing to get him to leave us alone.” The anger Clint had previously directed at Tony and the world at large had been redirected at Steve, it’d seemed.

Then Sam had spoken, though it hadn’t been the friendly tone Steve was used to from him. “I’m gonna say this once, Steve, and you better listen carefully. You lied to us. You deliberately misled us about what happened in Siberia. You made it sound as if Tony betrayed you, and that is not what really happened. You talked about trust and loyalty and the greater good and it was all bullshit. My lawyer told me Tony offered you – _us_ – a deal after Bucharest, and you turned it down without even bothering to tell me about it. You lied to us and _used_ us for your own fucking agenda, and now you expect us to just forget about it? Are you even sorry? Are you sorry for all the people we killed? About lying to Tony and almost killing him?”

“Of course I am!” Steve had shouted. He’d sent a letter and everything. (But would he do things differently if he had another chance? He didn’t know.)

“Really? Because by _lying_ to us about what happened, it makes me think that you were sorry he found out, not that you lied. You had plenty of time to come clean in Wakanda and you didn’t. And if we hadn’t seen the video, you would _still_ not have told us about it. You’re not the man I thought you were. I thought we were friends, but I don’t believe that anymore. I don’t know who you are, and most of all I don’t like who I became after I met you.”

The anger in Sam’s voice had surprised Steve (it shouldn’t have), and once again Steve hadn’t known what to say, how to fix it. He’d already lost Bucky, he couldn’t lose Sam too.

“I lost my family because of you,” Clint had said with barely leashed fury. “I may never see my kids again because of you. Fuck you, Steve. Fuck you to hell.”

And that had been the end. Neither had said a word to him since. Sometimes Steve felt like he’d just come out of the ice again, utterly alone and confused, everything around him strange and unfamiliar. (Sometimes he wished he had stayed there, or had really died when the plane crashed. It was cowardly, but these days nothing made sense anymore and he just wanted _something_ to cling to.)

With a sigh, he sat at the little desk to begin writing another letter to Bucky. It was the only thing he had left. Even if Bucky didn’t answer, the act of writing helped him feel connected to his friend. He’d considered writing another letter to Tony as well, but Sartini had talked him out of it (“you can write it if you want, but it will not be delivered,” the lawyer had said, so what would be the point?). It was hard just sitting in his cell all day with nothing to do. There were a few books Sartini had brought him, though none had held his interest. Even sketching wasn’t very appealing these days. All he ever managed to draw were depressing scenes of battle or places and people long gone, which ended up making him feel even worse. He’d asked about being allowed out for a bit – wasn’t it against the law to keep people locked up indefinitely? – but Sartini had replied that the Tower was not a normal prison and that, given his track record, no one wanted to take a chance in letting him out for anything other than speaking to his lawyer or the UN investigators. Even after almost two weeks, either Bruce or Vision would escort him to the meeting room every time – and neither would speak to him.

Answering the investigators’ questions had been an exercise in frustration, as they seemed determined to twist his every action into something horrible ( _selfish, arrogant, bully_ ) no matter how Steve explained. Still, they were Accords people, he knew he couldn’t expect anything else from them. Sartini kept saying they weren’t the only ones to think that way, but Steve didn’t believe that. Surely the public knew Steve wanted to protect people, that he cared about them (did he? _you don’t care about anyone except Barnes_ ). God, he just wanted this to be over.

(And what would happen after that? What would happen to him? _No, don’t think about it_.)

He heard footsteps and got up to see who was there (he always hoped that Tony should show up and they’d patch things up, even though he knew that wouldn’t happen). It was Sam’s lawyer. As usual, Sam didn’t even glance in Steve’s direction as he passed by on his way to the meeting room. It felt like a punch in the stomach every time.

None of this was supposed to happen. Why was this happening? All he’d wanted was to fight for his country, for what was right. To be a hero. ( _You are not a hero. You’re just a guy who managed not to die when given an experimental serum._ )

Alone in his cell, Steve tried to stay strong, though it was getting harder with every passing day.

*****

Sam hated the meeting room almost as much as he hated his cell. The cell was the reminder of his fall from grace, his idiocy and arrogance. He hated it because cells were for criminals and he was one. The meeting room was the place where he confronted his mistakes, where he had to admit to every stupid decision, every wrong move, every misguided belief – where he admitted that he wasn’t (had never been) a hero. Nothing good was ever talked about in the meeting room. Every time he left it he felt worse, angrier and more disgusted with himself.

The one good thing was that he was no longer cuffed to the table. Jenkins had convinced the guards that Sam wasn’t gonna do anything stupid (he’d already done plenty of stupid things to last him the rest of his life), so he could at least sit more comfortably while he contemplated how much of a mess he’d made of his life.

“So, I have an answer from the Accords Prosecution Department,” Jenkins said once they were both seated.

Sam tensed and swallowed hard. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before nodding for his lawyer to continue.

“They are willing to accept your guilty plea and set you sentence at 20 years, with the possibility of parole in 15 depending on your good behavior. You will still need to testify in the cases against Mr Rogers and the others. The Air Force has agreed to drop their charges against you if you accept the deal, though you will be dishonorably discharged.”

Twenty years. It didn’t seem real. _Twenty years_. Jesus. He’d be 59 years old by the time his sentence ended. And this was the best case scenario, with him pleading guilty. An actual court could sentence him to 25-35 years easily, Jenkins had said. This was his best chance, and it still sucked. ( _What did you expect?_ the little voice in his head asked. _People are dead because of you. That sucks even more_.)

“I…” He didn’t know what to say, what to do. Somehow it hadn’t seemed so bad until right this second. He’d known, of course, that his crimes were bad, that he’d had to go to jail for a long time, but… God, twenty years. Twenty _years_. He looked at Jenkins helplessly.

“It’s the best I could do, Mr Wilson. You can take some time to think about it, but my advice is to accept it. Believe me, it could be a lot worse.”

Twenty years.

Sam went back to his cell in a daze, tears streaming down his face and heart pounding away in his chest. Twenty years. _I hope all of you rot in hell like the vermin that you are_ , Howard Stark had said. Well, he was about to get his wish.

*****

Clint finished his push-ups and stood, splashing some water on his face from his tiny sink. His reflection in the mirror seemed to mock him – _ladies and gentlemen, a criminal_ – and he resisted the urge to smash his fist into it. Again. (He’d done it once and had lived without a mirror for a week until his lawyer had convinced the high-ups in charge, whoever they were, to give him a new one.)

During the last couple of weeks he’d cycled through anger and apathy more times than he could count, sometimes several times in the same day. The worst thing was being unable to talk to Laura or Nat. He’d all but begged Schultz to get in touch with Laura and ask her to come, and all he’d gotten for his trouble were divorce papers. He’d seriously considered not signing them to force Laura to get in touch, but Schultz had talked him out of it. “Your wife already has a new identity, so this is merely a formality. It will make no difference if you don’t sign, though you should still do it to give her and the children a decent closure,” she’d told him. Nat was god knew where, having abandoned him to sink by himself ( _that’s loyalty for you_ , he thought bitterly). The rational part of him knew she had a price on her head and staying away was the smart thing to do. Unfortunately, the rational part of him was not in charge these days (had never been, maybe). It still hurt. Laura and Nat’s absence _hurt_.

Clint had been imprisoned before, for short periods, but this was different. There was no chance of rescue this time. Back in the Raft he’d been filled with righteous anger (which had turned out not to have been so righteous after all) and the belief that things would work out because they were the Avengers, because they were the heroes. Steve coming to break them out had been exactly what he’d expected, and what he’d believed to be the first step in ‘fixing’ the whole situation. _Yeah, right_. Steve was going down, there was no question about it now, and Clint, Sam and Wanda were being dragged right along with him. Clint was still pissed enough about Steve’s betrayal that his whole defense was based on the idea that the fucker had lied to him (or misconstrued the truth, as the lawyer liked to say), and Clint had acted in good faith. He’d still do time for it, there was no hope of getting off completely, but a lesser sentence was still a possibility. Steve hadn’t given a fuck about them while he’d been busy protecting his buddy, so Clint felt no need to keep his loyalty to a liar.

He’d asked to talk to Tony (even though he wasn’t sure what he could say to the man), but Schultz had told him it wasn’t possible. Tony was a witness for the prosecution as well as one of the victims of their crimes, so they’d only see him in court. (And it was only now, when things were about to go to hell permanently, that Clint really missed Tony and his ability to make all problems go away – and, well, now _they_ were the problem Tony was making go away.)

There was nothing to do, nothing to fight. Clint was going nuts just sitting here waiting for the axe to fall on his head.

Vision stepped in front of his cell to tell him his lawyer had arrived. It was only either Vision or Banner who did escorting duty, never Tony or Rhodes. Clint preferred it when it was Vision because he didn’t know the guy (not that it had stopped him from attacking him back at the Compound). Bruce always looked at them with contempt (he’d always been closer to Tony than any of them) and it grated.

He was still cuffed to the table every time, which irritated the hell out of him as well. Schultz had told him it was because of his frequent outbursts of anger and his skill with hand-to-hand combat, which made him too big a security risk. Clint thought it was probably just an excuse to keep punishing him.

“I’ve just received a message from the Accords prosecutor. They have set a date for the trials. They will begin next week,” Schultz said as she came in and took a seat.

 _Shit_ , Clint thought. Next week was too soon – too soon for him to end up in jail for god knew how long. “Just me, or everyone?”

“The trials for Mr Rogers and Mr Wilson will be somewhat simultaneous. Yours and Miss Maximoff’s will start a couple of weeks later, as there are fewer charges against the two of you.”

“What about Lang?”

“Mr Lang has already pled guilty to all charges, so there won’t be a trial.”

“How long is he getting?” Would it be similar to what Clint could expect for himself?

“He has been sentenced to a term of nine years without the possibility of parole.”

“Nine years? That’s not as much as I thought.” It might not be so bad after all.

“Well, he is the one with the least number of charges, though he does have a prior conviction. The rest of you will likely get longer sentences.”

“He was right there with us at the airport!”

“Yes, but not at the Compound. And not in Uganda.”

Clint wanted to say that they’d been trying to help people in Uganda, but it would be a lie; they’d been trying to help themselves. They’d been stupid and reckless. And, much as he might not have wanted to admit it, pretty much proved why the Accords were necessary. However much Clint wanted to tell himself he was just going along with the others (his job was to shoot where and when he was told to, not make the decisions), and therefore wasn’t to blame, he knew it didn’t work like that (he wasn’t _that_ delusional, not anymore). He hadn’t actually cared; he’d just wanted to do something to be able to go home, back to Laura and the kids. (And it was only now that he really understood that there would be no going back, that he’d lost them the moment he’d walked out.)

“So now what?” he asked, trying not to let anger and despair overwhelm him.

“We continue our preparations.”

And wait for the end. _Shit_.


	11. Preparations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of a filler chapter before the trial starts, setting things up for that and catching up with Team Tony. Hope you enjoy it.

They were all sitting in the conference room again. Ms Pomeroy had news for them regarding the upcoming trials. She reminded Tony of Pepper a bit, in the way she carried herself and her no-nonsense demeanor. Tony was really glad she’d gotten the job instead of the other guy who’d been in the running for it. That one had seemed far too politically ambitious, and the last thing they needed was some power hungry ass using the trials for his own gain.

Tony had spent the last couple of weeks trying very hard to ignore the fact that the ExVengers were in his Tower, a few floors below him, with mixed success. His mother seemed just as determined to take no notice of them while hovering around Tony like he’d fall to pieces if she wasn’t there. They’d actually had a few arguments about it – Tony loved his mom, he really did, but she was starting to drive him nuts. Howard alternated between dismissing Steve’s entire existence and blaming him (and himself) for everything that had happened. On the whole, it made for a very tense atmosphere. Thank god for Friday, Rhodey and the others, who had taken it upon themselves to try and distract the stressed out Starks when things got too bad.

Tony had finally gotten his parents the therapists he’d promised, after going through an extensive background check and clearing it with the Accords Panel. The sessions had began two days ago and Tony was hopeful that it would help his mom and dad cope with things, especially now that the trials were only days away.

“I have just received confirmation from Mr Jenkins, Mr Wilson’s attorney, that he’s accepted the plea bargain and a sentence of 20 years.” Pomeroy said.

Rhodey shifted in his chair but said nothing. Tony couldn’t really tell what his friend thought about it. In a way, Tony felt sorry for Wilson – the man had at least had the decency of showing concern for Rhodey after his injury, which was far more than he could say for the others. However, he’d made his choices and now he had to live with them and accept the consequences. Tony had not forgotten Wilson’s blatant disregard for oversight, how he had agreed with Rogers that their hands (Rogers’) were the safest, completely ignoring everything Tony – the world – had tried to say. Wilson had followed blindly and now he’d finally realized that his precious Cap was not as perfect as advertised.

“What does that mean for the others’ trials?” Bruce asked.

“It strengthens our case and might change their strategy but ultimately it doesn’t change much. It is my understanding that Mr Rogers still intends to argue he acted in good faith with the information he had.”

Rhodey frowned. “You don’t think that’s gonna fly, do you?”

“In the sense that he can be acquitted, certainly not. It will be used to try to mitigate the charges and the sentence. However, I don’t think it will make much difference in the end. The death toll and the scope of the destruction left in their wake make them very unsympathetic.”

“What about Mr Barton and Miss Maximoff?” Vision asked. Tony had thought it would have taken Vision longer to get over his infatuation with the witch (an infatuation Tony had never really understood to begin with), but nothing like a vicious unprovoked attack and a complete lack of remorse to make one reevaluate one’s choices. At the airport Vision had still been confused, poor bastard, but when Tony had woken up after Siberia, it’d been to find a changed and subdued Vision determined not to repeat his mistake. His cool detachment had certainly been very helpful in the last few weeks as he’d taken most of the responsibility for keeping an eye on the rogues, sparing Tony from it.

“Mr Barton has, so far, declined a plea bargain. Miss Maximoff…” She trailed off, pinching the bridge of her nose. “According to Dr Yates’s report, Miss Maximoff, while competent to stand trial, is very immature in her beliefs and actions.”

Rhodey snorted. “Well, Rogers keeps saying she’s just a kid. A kid that volunteers for crazy experiments and has no problem killing and assaulting people. Makes you wonder about his definition of kid, doesn’t it?”

“Dr Yates believes accepting her as an Avenger without proper counseling was a grave mistake.”

This time it was Bruce who snorted. “Yeah, I could have told you that,” he said bitterly. Tony wasn’t sure if he was thinking of what Maximoff had done to him (to both of them) or of how he could have prevented her from being on the team if he’d stayed (a regret he’d told Tony when news of Uganda had hit). Tony himself also felt guilty that he had gone along with Rogers’ idea. Rogers had argued that poor Wanda had been misguided and that she deserved a second chance (with a pointed look that Tony had interpreted as ‘like I’ve condescended to give _you_ a second chance’). Still reeling from his own mistake with Ultron and the guilt and grief that followed, Tony had not contested it. Wanda had gotten her second chance and she’d blown it. And more innocent people had paid the price.

“In any case,” Pomeroy continued, “Miss Maximoff will proceed with her defense.”

“I hope her lawyer is smart enough not to go with the ‘she’s a kid’ idea,” Rhodey said.

“Not exactly, but I believe he will argue diminished capacity.” Seeing everyone’s expression of outrage, she raised a hand. “We will, of course, do our best to discredit that theory. Considering her crimes, the evidence we received from the Sokovian government and the outcry from the public, I do not believe that argument will hold up very well.”

It wasn’t that Tony wanted Maximoff to suffer, exactly, but he didn’t want her to get away with everything she’d done because she was too stupid to think about her actions. “And Lang?”

“He’s already began his nine-year sentence. He will only be in the trial as a witness. We have arranged to hold him in the UN facility where Barnes is as to minimize his contact with the rest of the ExVengers,” she smiled a little at the name, “at his request.”

Tony didn’t want to be the one to ask about Barnes. He had tried not to think about it, about the man who had killed his parents. The man who had, perhaps, been Hydra’s greatest victim.

It was Rhodey who asked, putting a comforting hand on Tony’s arm. “And Barnes?” 

Pomeroy sighed. “That is, as you know, a very complex case. According to Dr Flores’ latest report, Barnes is beginning to regain his sense of self and has cooperated fully with our investigators both in regards to the Civil War and his actions as the Winter Soldier. The problem is, of course, that we don’t know what other triggers Hydra might have left, or even how to remove the ones we do know about. In any case, he apparently has no objection to his current incarceration. We have decided not to call him to testify, nor to prosecute him for his involvement in the Civil War at this time, not until Dr Flores has finalized his assessment about whether or not he was mentally competent at the time.”

“What does that mean? Has he claimed he was under Hydra’s control during the Civil War?” Vision asked, a slight frown on his face.

“No, he hasn’t said that. He is, however, suffering from a severe case of PTSD, and Dr Flores isn’t convinced he was capable of making complex decisions on his own about how much to involve himself. Or that he was capable of walking away from the situation, had he wanted to. While no longer under Hydra’s control, it is difficult to determine whether he was really of sound mind.”

“You’re saying that Rogers dragged him into it,” Tony said, trying to keep his voice level. He remembered how quickly Barnes had launched himself in Rogers’ defense back in that bunker, how he had not stopped fighting until Tony had blasted his fucking arm off. Had that all been simple instinct? While Barnes had admitted to the murders, it hadn’t prevented him from attacking Tony. _So much for being sorry_.

“I am saying that Dr Flores is not yet convinced of Mr Barnes’s mental state at the time. So we are holding out on making a decision about how to proceed with our case against him until he does. In the meantime, Barnes will remain in custody at the UN facility.” She paused for a moment, as if waiting for an objection. When none came, she went on. “The idea is to eventually transfer him to another facility, more suited for long time placement and his ongoing psychiatric treatment.”

“What about Rogers? Where is he going to go after the trial?” Bruce asked.

Tony sighed. “There’s a new prison – not the Raft – being built to house enhanced people.” He’d been asked by the Accords Panel to consult on its construction and security measures. It wasn’t exactly a dream job, even if Tony knew it was necessary. Currently, they had especially designed cells in some places capable of containing enhanced individuals, but not a whole prison. Though he’d argued that it was too big a risk to keep too many enhanced in the same place, he’d been outvoted. “It should be operational by the time the trial ends. Rogers will likely go there. Wilson, Maximoff and Barton I don’t know.” And he didn’t care. He just wanted them out of his Tower. Out of his life.

“That is still being debated. We will only have a definitive answer after the trial,” Pomeroy said.

The Avengers exchanged glances. No doubt the others were thinking the same thing as Tony: that could not come fast enough.

Pomeroy rested her hands on the table and looked at them tiredly. “Since Mr Wilson has pled guilty, we will begin with only Rogers. On Monday we’ll have opening statements and the prosecution will begin with the witnesses regarding his actions in Bucharest. It should take most of the day. Col Rhodes will likely be called the following day.” She turned to Tony. “We’d like to leave your testimony for the end, Mr Stark.”

“That’s fine.” It wasn’t as if he was looking forward to it. In fact, he wished he didn’t have to do it at all. Unfortunately, there was no way he could get out of it, being a both a victim and a key witness.

“Are there any other questions?”

Vision wanted to know when he’d be required to testify against Barton and Maximoff for their assault of him in the Compound, and Bruce inquired whether he’d have to take the stand. Tony tuned them out, feeling a bit anxious now that the time was drawing near.

It wasn’t that he was afraid of Rogers – not really, not anymore – it was just that… It still hurt. The betrayal, the utter disregard the man had shown for him. Tony couldn’t help wonder what he’d see in Rogers’s face after all this time. Would Steve still maintain he did the right thing? That Tony had been the villain behind the Accords? Would he still give the same condescending look of smug superiority? Or had the magnitude of his mistakes finally gotten through? Wilson and Lang had apparently realized that they’d fucked up, but Rogers? Stubborn, compromise is a dirty word, self-righteous Rogers?

The last Tony had seen of Rogers had been the surveillance footage of Howard confronting him. Rogers had seemed shaken by that, but Tony wasn’t convinced that, after some time, Rogers wouldn’t have gone right back to his previous ‘I am Captain America and can do no wrong’ stance. He wasn’t sure what would be worse: that Rogers would have finally _seen_ what he’d done, and go down for it, filled with guilt; or that he would still look at Tony with contempt and arrogance, ignoring the pain he’d caused because Tony (and everyone _not_ Bucky) was simply beneath his notice.

Well, one way or another, it would be over soon.

With an effort, Tony concentrated back in the meeting. There was still work to be done.

*****

With the trials drawing near, Rhodey went over his notes for his testimony again. It seemed like Monday could not come fast enough. He was glad Wilson and Lang had accepted a guilty plea, not only because it saved them all the trouble of going through the whole trial, but also because it seemed that the two of them had actually decided to take responsibility for their actions. Finally.

He still couldn’t quite believe how much of a fraud Captain America had turned out to be. Like most kids, Rhodey had grown up with stories of a great and noble hero who had made the ultimate sacrifice to save the world. While it wasn’t the only reason, the idea of being even a little bit like Cap had fueled young Rhodey’s desire to be in the military, to serve his country with the same selfless dedication. Well, that was laughable now. Selfless was certainly _not_ a word one could associate with Steve Rogers. And maybe his noble sacrifice hadn’t been all that noble after all, just a pretty story to tell the world. Maybe the great Steve Rogers had just had enough and simply wanted to join his good friend Barnes in the afterlife – after all, nothing seemed more important to the man.

Or maybe Rhodey was just being uncharitable. He could understand, intellectually, that Rogers must have had a really hard time adjusting to being, for all intents and purposes, brought back to life; that someone from the past – the best friend he’d thought he’d lost – might seem like a lifesaver. And maybe the man had been left to flounder all on his own – SHIELD sure as hell hadn’t helped – with a lot of responsibility he couldn’t deal with, like leading the Avengers when he obviously had no training for that. Still, there were plenty of things Rogers could have done instead of plowing on like he had the answer to everything.

Rhodey wasn’t usually a vindictive man, but he wanted Rogers (and the other ExVengers) to suffer. The idea that the man had used Tony’s money and resources to search for his parents’ killer without a single thought to Tony filled Rhodey with such rage he wanted to punch someone (Rogers).

Ever since the Civil War, Rhodey had been involved in a lot of discussions with fellow officers regarding Rogers and his actions. There had been some who’d actually had the gall to defend Rogers and his one-man crusade against the ‘evil government’, saying that, if ‘Cap’ thought the Accords were bad, there must have been a reason. So Rhodey had made it his mission in life to educate people about what the Accords were really about and what constituted appropriate behavior for a member of the Armed Forces (and a supposed superhero) everywhere he went – and it had helped get his point across that, at the time he’d started it, he was still confined to a wheelchair because of the stupid Civil War and the actions of ‘Team Cap’.

As he’d expected, cooler heads had eventually prevailed and acceptance of the Accords had improved. Now, with what had happened in Uganda and all the evidence gathered against the ExVengers and discussed on the news, only the truly fanatic still supported Rogers. A few of these fanatics had decided to gather outside the Tower a few days ago for a protest, which others had taken exception to. The Tower’s security guards had had to intervene and call the police before it became an all out riot. And of course the lead fanatic hat shouted out the usual bigoted idiocy as he was dragged away. Security had been reinforced around the Tower – Friday keeping a catalogue of potential nutters to watch out for – and in the UN building where the trial would take place. It was going to be a very tense affair.

After finishing with his testimony, Rhodey turned his attention to the security measures that were to be implemented for the trial. Though it was a bit unorthodox for the Avengers, who were also witnesses and victims in the trial, to be responsible for security, the UN (and the Mayor of New York) had insisted that ordinary officers would not be enough to contain the ExVengers if they chose to attempt an escape, so Vision was to stick to the defendants (mostly Rogers) like glue at all times once the trial started while Wasp would be patrolling the outside of the ‘courthouse’ to ensure no crazies could get through. There had been some debate about the Hulk as well, but despite the fact that the Hulk had proven he was not a mindless beast, the potential for accidents had been deemed too high, for which Bruce had been thankful – he didn’t mind escorting the rogues within the Tower, but out in the streets was a different matter.

Vision had been chosen for the fact that he was enhanced and because he had not been as personally affected as Tony and Rhodey (no one had even considered getting Tony to act as security). Wasp, while not enhanced, was more emotionally distant, and her shrinking and stinging abilities (with the especially designed tranq darts that could put even Rogers to sleep) would make it possible for her to subdue them and any rioter with minimal fuss should it be necessary.

Rhodes’ job was to coordinate with Everett Ross of the UN task force to secure the perimeter of the building and keep an eye on the protesters and potential wackos along with Wasp. According to Friday, who had been scoring the Internet for possible problems and red flags, several groups were planning to be outside the building when Rogers came in, both for and against him (mostly against). There had been some debate of bringing Rogers in through helicopter and bypass the crowd outside the building entirely, but Ms Pomeroy had argued against it, claiming that he needed to see the public’s reaction to him. With all that they had heard about his idiotic justifications, the Avengers had agreed with her. At least on the first day, Rogers had to be made aware of just how people now saw him (privately, Rhodey hoped it would bring him down a peg or two).

Really, Rhodey could not wait for it to be over, for everyone’s peace of mind.

*****

Preparations were underway everywhere Friday turned her processing power to. Ms Pomeroy and her team had been working frantically the last few weeks and were eager to finally begin. The Avengers, the UN Task Force and the New York police department had gone over security measures a dozen times. Now it was only a matter of waiting for Monday to come.

The trial was to be televised, though not live. Highlights of each day would no doubt show up in every news station in the world, and from the Accords Panel official site one would be able to watch the entire thing starting at 6 pm every day. The eyes of the world would be upon the courtroom very soon.

Friday had been monitoring forums, blogs and various social networking sites for discussions on the upcoming trial ever since the ExVengers had been arrested, for safety considerations as well as her own curiosity. She’d been gratified to find that most people supported Boss and the Avengers, and condemned Rogers and his accomplices. Of course, the average citizen did not know all details of their crimes yet, only what had been said on television. The events that had taken place in Siberia, for example, had not yet been fully divulged to the public; they only knew that a fight between Iron Man and Captain America had taken place which had resulted in injuries to the former. Friday could not wait to see the public’s reaction to the videos, which would no doubt be shown at the trial. It had certainly had a lasting impact on Wilson and Barton (though Barton had seemed more concerned with himself than Boss).

There was still some talk, mostly amongst Americans, that Rogers would present some heretofore unknown fact that would explain his actions in the trial, some sort of conspiracy he had been privy to that would justify what he’d done. It seemed to Friday that some people were desperate to believe that there had to be _something_ to excuse his behavior (other than rampant idiocy, of course). It would be interesting to see what these people would have to say when the whole truth came out.

However, those who still had some hope that Rogers wasn’t a complete jerk were a minority. People had pointed out that one conspiracy had already been discovered – Hydra – so there was unlikely to be another. And others had proposed that, having spent nearly 70 years frozen in the Arctic, Rogers probably didn’t know much about how the modern world worked, so his opinion on the Accords might have come from ignorance (and arrogance). Peter Parker had spent a lot of time on forums since the arrests making that exact argument and basically denouncing ‘Cap’ and his supporters with well-reasoned (and extremely well-informed, some provided by Friday herself) facts.

The young Spiderling, who was not allowed to visit the Tower yet (his aunt had only just ungrounded him when the ExVengers had been arrested and had apparently ‘freaked out’ over the possibility of Peter going anywhere near the rogues), had been texting Friday continuously for weeks, asking for news regarding the proceedings and the well-being of the Tower inhabitants, especially Boss. He had even suggested going to the UN building on Monday to be on hand should anything happen, but Friday had shut him down on that, reminding him that he would get in even bigger trouble with his aunt for disobeying her. Spider-Man was still officially out of commission, though, according to Peter, Mrs Parker was slowly coming around to the idea of letting him continue training with the Avengers in a kind of junior/intern position.

In Wakanda, the new Queen was having quite a bit of trouble trying to keep the former king from having to face charges himself for his involvement in the Civil War despite the fact that he’d signed the Accords. Now that T’Challa was no longer king, his diplomatic immunity wasn’t as strong as before, and the international community was still out for blood. Queen Shuri had offered significant financial help to the governments of Romania and Germany to pay for the still ongoing reconstruction of the collapsed tunnel and the airport, as well as some trade agreements for Wakandan technology. The Accords Prosecution Department, pressured by the Avengers (mainly the Colonel and Banner), was not inclined to let him off the hook completely. It was unlikely he would end up in prison, but there were other forms of punishment. There had been talk of suspending his diplomatic immunity altogether, so any step out of line from now on would result in full charges along with heavy fines and even some community service. Not to mention that he was already persona non grata and no longer an official representative of Wakanda for any international matter. Friday was monitoring the situation, hoping that the man who had abandoned Boss to freeze to death would get his dues.

In the Tower, Boss and Mr and Mrs Stark were anxious and on edge. Friday had been doing her best to offer them suitable distractions. Mr Stark could usually be diverted from worrying about things too much by being shown some interesting piece of new technology. He particularly liked communications technology such as satellites and cell phones. Artificial Intelligence was also a matter of interest, so Friday would show him Boss’s early codes for the bots and herself, talking him through some of the theories. She had discovered that getting Boss in on these discussions was a good way to keep them from fretting too much and work on their still tentative new relationship. From her observations, Boss seemed happier and more relaxed after spending time with his father ‘talking shop’.

Mrs Stark was a bit more difficult, but Friday had found her to be interested in the Foundation and its charitable ventures. In addition, she seemed to really enjoy talking about business with Ms Potts; the two women had been getting on extremely well. Ms Potts had been in New York since Boss and the Avengers had been sent out to apprehend the fugitives. Even though she was often busy running SI, she made a point of coming by as much as she could.

It was Friday’s job to take care of Boss and his family, and she was determined to do the best possible job she could. Keeping well informed about everything and ensuring everyone’s well-being was her top priority.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: the trial of Steve Rogers begins.


	12. The safest hands

Steve looked at himself in the tiny mirror in his cell. It was time to go. He’d wanted to wear his Captain America suit to the trial, to remind people who he was, but Sartini had vetoed it (and Steve wasn’t sure where his suit was anyway, actually). His lawyer had gotten him a regular dark blue suit that didn’t fit as well as it should. Still, watching his reflection, Steve figured it wasn’t too bad. Though he’d never been comfortable in fancy clothes, he knew it was necessary.

“Mr Rogers, are you ready?” Vision asked, standing outside the cell with Miss van Dyne and several security officers.

With a deep breath to get his nerves under control, Steve nodded.

When the door opened, Vision reached out to put the cuff on Steve’s wrists.

“Is this really necessary?”

“Yes.”

There was never any hint of friendliness in Vision’s demeanor, no indication at all that they had once fought side by side for the safety of the world. Vision might as well be a complete stranger, like van Dyne. It made Steve feel uneasy in ways he couldn’t quite articulate.

The whole procession marched through the halls of the Tower and to the garage, where they entered what seemed to be an armored SUV. Steve sat in the back with Vision, van Dyne (Wasp, that was her codename) and two security officers. No one spoke.

The black windows in the car made it impossible for Steve to see anything, and he found himself missing New York (his New York, the one he’d grown up in) fiercely. Everything had been so much easier then, so much simpler – there were bad guys and bullies to be fought, a war to be won. Now everyone seemed to be confused about what was right and wrong. (Steve wanted to say he still knew right and wrong, but in the last couple of weeks he’d begun to doubt more and more. He hated that feeling.)

He wasn’t sure how long it took – he didn’t even know where they were going, exactly – but finally the car stopped. The officers opened the doors, stationing themselves right beside it and scanning the crowd that Steve could now hear. Vision took his arm to lead him out while Wasp shrank and disappeared from sight.

It wasn’t complete chaos despite how it seemed to Steve at first. In front of the UN building there were people as well as news vans and dozens of journalists speaking into their microphones for the cameras all around. Behind police lines people were screaming and waving signs over their heads.

_Justice for Lagos_

_Justice for Johannesburg_

_ExVengers in jail_

_Not MY America_

_Terrorists belong in jail_

_The New Avengers are heroes. The old ones are criminals_

_Team Iron Man_

_We support the REAL heroes_

_No mercy for terrorists_

_Burn the Witch_

_ExVengers are war criminals_

_Justice for Uganda_

_Steve Rogers rot in hell_

The last one made Steve flinch slightly. He couldn’t help remember Howard’s words, the venom and hatred in his voice when he’d spoken, as if Steve was no better than the Red Skull. Did these people really think the same? How could they? Steve had only wanted to protect them. ( _Did you? Or was it only Bucky that you wanted to protect?_ )

On the other side of the building there was another group of people with posters, though their number was significantly smaller.

_Cap is an American hero_

_Make America great again_

_America supports Captain America_

Vision tugged on his arm and they began to walk towards the entrance of the building.

“The world doesn’t want you!” Someone shouted as Steve got closer to the crowd.

“People’s lives matter!”

“Fuck you, Rogers!”

Steve kept walking, trying not to look at anyone, though his legs began to shake ever so slightly. He had not expected this vitriol, this hostility.

“Tony Stark is a hero! You’re just a bully!”

After what felt like an eternity they got inside, leaving the angry crowd behind. Steve took a deep breath and allowed himself to relax a bit, until he looked up and saw the way the people _inside_ were looking at him. There was disgust in the expression of the security guards, while the employees hurried past him as if he had a contagious disease.

“This way, Mr Rogers,” Vision said, once again leading a disorientated Steve through the corridors to the elevator.

Wasp materialized beside them when they stepped out, making Steve jump. She took no notice of him, simply walked on to open the door at the end of the hall.

The room looked a bit like a courtroom, except there was no place for a jury. There was a high table at the wall furthest from the entrance where five people, three men and two women, sat. A little below them there were two rather long tables, one on each side, for the prosecution and the defense. Steve could see Sartini already there waiting, an assistant beside him. On the prosecution side there were four people, two men and two women. Behind those tables and on the sides leading up from the door there were rows of raised tables, most filled. Steve had no idea who those people were or why they were there. On the four corners of the room there were cameras mounted to record the proceedings, making Steve feel like a performing monkey all over again.

Vision walked Steve to his table and then took a seat a little ways behind him. Steve’s hands remained cuffed.

Sartini had explained that, because of the international nature of the crimes, there wouldn’t be a jury but a panel of judges from the countries that had signed the Accords. It didn’t feel right to Steve, but there was nothing he could do about it.

“Do these need to stay on?” he asked Sartini, tugging lightly on the restraints. He hated being treated like he would start attacking people at any minute.

“I’m afraid so. And please remember that you are not to speak at any point during the proceedings.”

Then the judge in the middle rose and everyone fell silent. Steve clutched his slightly sweaty hands and told himself everything was going to be fine.

“The Accords Court is now in session. Today we begin the trial of Steven Grant Rogers. The defendant stands accused of many crimes in several different countries. For the sake of organization, they will be grouped by country where the offenses took place, given in chronological order.

“In Nigeria, Mr Rogers is accused of trespassing, property damage and reckless endangerment in the second degree.

“In Romania, Mr Rogers is accused of trespassing, six counts of aggravated assault on a peace officer, four counts of aggravated criminally negligent homicide, reckless endangerment in the second degree, carjacking and property damage.

“In Germany, Mr Rogers is accused of resisting arrest, six counts of aggravated assault on a peace officer, property damage, trespassing and theft.

“In Russia, Mr Rogers is accused of trespassing and attempted murder in the second degree. He is further accused of obstruction of justice in the matter of Howard and Maria Stark’s murder.

“In International Waters, where the Raft prison was located, Mr Rogers is accused of trespassing, twelve counts of aggravated assault on a peace officer, reckless endangerment in the second degree, property damage, resisting arrest and prison break.

“In Wakanda, Mr Rogers is accused of property damage, reckless endangerment in the second degree and theft.

“In Uganda, Mr Rogers is accused of trespassing, eleven counts of assault in the first degree, ten counts of aggravated assault in the first degree, reckless endangerment in the second degree, three counts of criminally negligent homicide, property damage and resisting arrest.”

Steve had heard most of this before, of course, back at the arraignment (it felt like a lifetime ago, but was only about three weeks), though then he hadn’t really thought much about what it all meant, still convinced that it was some kind of misunderstanding that would be cleared up as soon as he could talk to someone who’d listen (Tony, maybe, he’d thought). Somehow it seemed so much worse, so much more real, now that he was sitting here surrounded by lawyers and security officers, with an angry mob outside shouting obscenities at him and the judges’ unsympathetic faces.

The fear and dread he’d been keeping at bay suddenly overwhelmed him. It got a bit hard to breathe, and he had to close his eyes and concentrate on the physical sensations of his body – the cuffs around his wrists, the weight of the suit jacket on his shoulders, the shoes that pinched his feet just a little – to get himself back under control.

None of this was supposed to happen. How could this have happened?

_Oh god. I think I’m in real trouble here._

*****

The prosecution and defense gave their opening statements and, in Vision’s opinion, the defense’s case was very weak, relying mostly on the idea that Rogers had had good intentions but faulty information and that he had not meant to cause harm to people. From his position behind Rogers, Vision could not see the man’s expression. His body language, however, spoke of tension and nervousness, perhaps even fear. _Perhaps he is finally realizing that actions have consequences_.

As expected, the day was filled with testimony from the officers from the task force sent to apprehend the Winter Soldier in Bucharest, as well as expert witnesses who spoke about the collapsed tunnel and the damage it had caused both to passersby and to the overall traffic in the city. There was also testimony from medical experts detailing the injuries suffered by the officers and the civilian bystanders caught in the crossfire. Combined, it all painted a rather grim picture of Rogers’s utter disregard for human life – excluding, clearly, that of his friend. The judges looked shocked and horrified with each new piece of information presented.

Under the Accords, crimes committed by enhanced individuals crossing international borders were to be tried and judged by the new Accords Prosecution Department. Instead of a jury, cases were to be decided by a panel of five judges chosen from representatives of the signatory nations, except for those directly involved with the crimes in question. To ensure fairness and global representation, the judges should ideally be from all five continents and have legal and diplomatic backgrounds. For Mr Rogers’s trial, the selected judges were Mr Joder Rezin from Switzerland (presiding), Mr Oumar Sène from Senegal, Ms Naoko Matsunaga from Japan, Ms Teresa Oliveira from Brazil and Mr David Simpson from Australia. These trials were not only important to bring the ExVengers to justice but also to show the world the effectiveness of the system the Accords had put in place to deal with enhanced individuals who broke both national and international laws.

Mr Sartini didn’t have much to say in light of the evidence provided to mitigate Rogers’ actions, except to question whether the task force had had orders to kill the Winter Soldier.

“Our orders were to use whatever force was necessary to apprehend the suspect. Our intention was to incapacitate him before it became a fight, but because of Mr Rogers’ intervention we lost the element of surprise and were forced to engage,” Mr Walter Andres, one of the Task Force officers, had answered.

“Mr Rogers believed you had orders to kill.”

Former SHIELD and CIA agent Sharon Carter had been the one to provide that information, and to illegally return Rogers and Wilson’s weapons after their escape from Berlin. She had already been tried and convicted for it months ago, several weeks before Thaddeus Ross had faced trial.

“Well, his information was incorrect. If we wanted the man dead, we would have set up multiple snipers and taken him out when he left the building.”

Vision wondered why Mr Sartini had agreed to represent Rogers, since the case seemed quite hopeless. Still, whatever his reasons, it was undoubtedly a good thing that he had, for then no one would be able to complain that the Accords Panel were denying Rogers his rights. It still seemed odd to Vision that Roger had thought the Accords would impinge on his freedom and rights in the first place. He still could not understand why Rogers did not understand that oversight was a necessity. Rogers was either supremely arrogant or woefully out of touch with reality – or perhaps both.

At the end of the day, Vision once again took up his escorting duties. According to Wasp’s reports throughout the day, there had been no major problems with the crowd outside the Accords courthouse. Despite some tense moments, no acts of violence had been committed and there had been no need to arrest anyone.

The sun was setting when they exited the building. The noise from the crowd intensified when Rogers and Vision were spotted, but the police kept the protesters from getting too close. Rogers seemed uncharacteristically subdued as he climbed into the waiting vehicle, watching the people shouting with what seemed like confusion.

He said nothing during the ride back to the Tower. It was only in the elevator on the way to his cell that he spoke.

“Do people really think that I don’t care about them?”

Vision looked at him. He seemed genuinely surprised by what he had seen and heard today. It made no sense to Vision.

“Yes,” he replied. “You have given them very little reason to believe their safety is a concern for you.”

“I was trying to protect them!”

“Yet you ignored their concerns and fears and thought only of yourself. You demonstrated, time and time again, a lack of concern for the feelings and lives of others, and never any remorse for the damage you and your actions caused. Instead, you chose to place yourself above the law and the whole world, and continuously blamed others for the problems _you_ caused, denying any responsibility for anything.”

“The Accords–”

“Mr Rogers, you cannot possibly _still_ be blaming the Accords for the tragedies that occurred. The Accords were not the unjust law you believed them to be, which you would have known had you read them. The Accords simply asked for oversight and accountability, both of which you proved beyond a doubt you need.”

The elevator opened and Vision led Rogers out without waiting for a response.

“It wasn’t supposed to happen this way,” Rogers said once the door to his cell had closed.

“That might be. However, it makes no difference for the end result.”

With that, Vision phased through the floor, trusting that Friday would keep watch over the prisoners. It had been a long day.

*****

“Please state your name and occupation for the record,” Ms Pomeroy said on the second day of Rogers’s trial.

“Colonel James Rhodes. I am currently a member of the Avengers. Before that, I served with the US Air Force.”

“Were you present when the Sokovia Accords were first presented to the old Avengers, Colonel?”

Rhodey looked over at Rogers, not bothering to hide his disdain for the man. “Yes, I was. We all gathered to hear the former Secretary of State, Thaddeus Ross, officially present them.”

“Were you aware of them before that time?”

“Yes. They’d been discussed in the news, though not in detail. I’d also talked to Tony Stark about them a few times. He asked my opinion on a few points.” He kept his gaze on Rogers as he spoke, though the man didn’t hold eye contact for long.

“How did the discussion at the Avengers Compound go?”

“After Ross had left us to talk it out, Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson immediately expressed their dislike of the idea.”

“What did Mr Rogers say to justify his position?”

“He said the Accords shifted the blame, though I’m not sure what he meant by that, and that they were run by people with agendas, implying of course that those agendas would be against him, and that it would be surrendering our right to chose, which is idiotic. He said, and I quote, ‘the safest hands are our own’.” It was still hard for him to believe that one man could be so supremely arrogant as to think himself perfect and above reproach. Above anyone else who might dare to question his judgment and his decisions. “However, when he said ‘our’ hands he meant only his, since he dismissed those of us who agreed with the Accords.”

Now Rogers was looking at him, expression defiant. Rhodey wanted to go over there and punch the son of a bitch full in the face, but controlled himself. Rogers would get what was coming to him through legal means. _He’s not gonna get out of this_ , he told himself. _He’s finished_.

“How did the discussion end?”

“Rogers got a text and said he had to go.”

“Did he say where he was going? Why he had to walk away from the discussion?”

“Not then. He just walked out without a word to anybody. A while later I heard from Tony that Peggy Carter had passed away and her funeral would be in London, so we assumed that was where he was going.”

“Assumed? He didn’t tell you or Mr Stark directly?”

“No. He told Wilson and Romanoff, and Romanoff told Tony, but by then he’d already put it together.”

“So Mr Rogers didn’t go to Vienna to discuss his concerns about the Accords?”

“No. I doubt that idea even occurred to him. Tony and Romanoff went as representatives of the Avengers. Vision and I had already signed them.”

“What happened when Mr Rogers’s friend, Sergeant Barnes, was implicated in the bombing of the UN building in Vienna?”

“Romanoff called him to ask him to stay out of it, since she knew he couldn’t be rational when it came to Barnes. He didn’t listen and… well, we know what happened.” The defiant expression had disappeared from Rogers’s face. At least now he seemed aware of _exactly_ what his actions had caused.

“Were the Avengers called to deal with the Winter Soldier?”

“No.”

“Why? Wouldn’t that have been a better choice than ordinary officers, considering the Winter Soldier is an enhanced individual?”

“Perhaps, but the Accords had only just been ratified and many of the people who had worked on them, like King T’Chaka, were either dead or seriously injured after the bombing, so everything was rather up in the air. There was also some concern about Mr Rogers’s personal relationship with Barnes. Tony and I tried to argue that the Avengers, minus Rogers, should be the ones to apprehend him. Thaddeus Ross jumped the gun and gave the order for the task force to engage before the Accords Panel had reached a decision.” He paused, looking at Rogers again. “The Accords were still new enough that there was still some confusion on how it was to operate. Ross took advantage of that, and the lack of a clear leadership in the aftermath of Vienna, to pursue his own agenda against enhanced beings, an agenda that was _not_ what the Accords were about. As a result, Thaddeus Ross is now sitting in a prison cell, tried and convicted for violating the Accords he was meant to uphold, as well as a number of other laws. Rogers’s crusade to save his friend played right into Ross’s hands. And Zemo’s.”

Rogers didn’t maintain eye contact. Instead, he faced the table, doodling on the papers in front of him, which infuriated Rhodey. _Doesn’t even have the decency of acknowledging anything I’m saying_.

“When were you called in?”

“When Rogers showed up and started attacking the task force officers. Then former King T’Challa got involved, though his identity wasn’t known right away, and it turned into a disaster that put civilian lives in danger.”

“Did Mr Rogers express any remorse over the casualties and injuries that occurred as a result of his involvement?”

“Not to my knowledge. As far as I know, he didn’t ask about casualties or damages at all.” And he never did for Uganda, DC, or Sokovia either. Battle over, he simply put it out of his mind. Hell, he probably hadn’t given Rhodey’s injury a single thought. He’d gotten away with Barnes and nothing else mattered. _Asshole_.

“Tell us about what happened at the airport.”

“Well, Ross wanted to take lethal measures against Rogers and Barnes after their escape from the facility in Berlin had led to more deaths and injuries, which, again, was overstepping himself a lot. Tony convinced him to let the Avengers – the ones who had signed the Accords, that is – be the ones to bring them in. Tony thought we could reason with them and get them to turn themselves in without further bloodshed. Romanoff suggested we bring in T’Challa, who had just signed the Accords, and Tony suggested Spider-Man, since his webs would be helpful in capturing the rogues without using much force. Then we heard that Maximoff and Barton had assaulted Vision at the Compound and would presumably join Rogers, so reinforcements definitely seemed like a good idea.” He paused for a moment. It still filled him with rage to think about that fight, the absolute disregard Rogers and his minions had shown for the rest of them. Poor Peter had nearly been crushed and even T’Challa had almost been killed. At least Lang had admitted he’d fucked up and apologized. “We found out where they were and evacuated the airport. We didn’t go in there for a fight, but we had no choice. Rogers and his buddies weren’t pulling punches either. Tony and Spider-Man were injured. Romanoff was too, but then she changed sides and attacked T’Challa.” He took a deep breath, trying to keep the memories of falling at bay. “I was injured as well.”

“Can you explain how that happened?”

“Rogers and Barnes got into the jet – the one they had planned to steal – with Romanoff’s help, and were taking off, Wilson flying behind them. Tony and I gave chase. I told Vision to take down Wilson’s jetpack. With his wings, he would be able to get safely to the ground. Wilson dodged and the shot hit the arc reactor in my suit instead. I lost power and fell.” It had felt like forever, just falling; totally uncontrolled, totally helpless to do anything. He’d been sure he was going to die and he’d been terrified. Never in all his life had he been that scared. The suit he’d loved had turned into a coffin. He’d always known there was a possibility of injury on the job, and he’d accepted it, but that… none of that should have happened. It would not have happened if Rogers weren’t such an arrogant selfish piece of shit.

“Colonel?”

Rhodey startled and returned his focus to the present. He was okay now. But Rogers wouldn’t be when they were done with him.

“Sorry. I…. Can you repeat the question?”

“What happened after that?”

“Tony and Wilson tried to reach me but they didn’t make it. Next thing I know I’m in the hospital and Tony’s my new roommate.” He turned the most vicious glare he could on Rogers. He knew that Howard had confronted Steve about his actions in Siberia, but it didn’t seem as if it had done any good. The fucker still refused to accept responsibility. Tony had nearly _died_ and the bastard had just walked away without a care in the world, probably congratulating himself on defending his buddy.

“What was the extent of your injuries?”

“Well, I had a ton of broken bones and some spinal damage. The doctors were worried about paralysis at first, but the damage turned out to be swelling rather than nerve tearing. Still, the only reason I’m alive at all is Tony’s foresight in reinforcing the suit for a possible fall, after his own fall during the invasion in New York, and the only reason I’m walking again is because Tony made these amazing braces that compensate for the damages.”

“At the airport, before the fight, did Mr Rogers tell anyone on your team about the supposed threat of the Winter Soldiers?”

“No. Well, I think he gave some throwaway line about a doctor, but no. At no point did he say that there was a threat to the world. As far as we knew, his only motivation in fighting us was keeping his friend from being arrested again.”

“Did anyone on his team disclose any information about that threat?”

“No.”

“Not even to Ms Romanoff?”

“No. I guess he implied there was something more going on to get her to help him, but as far as I know he did not tell her anything specific.” No one else could be trusted but those who followed him blindly, obviously.

“Thank you Colonel. No further questions.”

Pomeroy sat back at her table and Mr Sartini stood, buttoning up his suit jacket.

“Was the threat of the Winter Soldiers real?”

“No. I mean, they existed, but Zemo’s plan wasn’t to let them loose.”

“But Mr Rogers believed that it was.”

“I suppose so. However, it would still have made more sense to tell us about it.”

“But Mr Rogers believed that the Accords would prevent you from acting. Would they?”

“No.”

“As you said, the Accords Panel was scrambling after the bombing and there was no clear chain of command. Would that not have prevented a decision from being made in time?”

“There was plenty of time. From the time they escaped Berlin until the airport there were more than 24 hours. Plenty of time for him, or anyone on his team, to contact us. Even if the Panel took time to make the decision to send the Avengers, regular law enforcement could have watched the airports for Zemo, which might have prevented him from reaching Siberia in the first place. And then there would have been no urgent need for the Avengers since the Winter Soldiers would have remained where they were, in stasis.” Except Rogers was an untrained moron who probably had never thought of any of that. He was, after all, the only one qualified to make decisions.

“Is it not possible that former Secretary Ross, who had a history of attempting to recreate the super soldier serum, would have seen news of more Winter Soldiers as an opportunity to get his hands on it?”

“I suppose so. But Ross wasn’t part of the Accords Panel. As I said, he overstepped his authority. He might have wanted that, but that doesn’t mean he would have been able to get it.”

“But it is possible that he would have wanted to take advantage of that information?”

“Yes, but again, Ross wasn’t part of the Accords. In fact, since we were aware of his history, we could have prevented him from hearing about it altogether since it wasn’t really information he needed to have.”

“But Mr Rogers didn’t know that.”

“Mr Rogers didn’t seem like he knew what the United Nations were, so no, I guess he didn’t know that. He might have, if he’d talked to us.”

“In Berlin, when Mr Rogers asked for a lawyer for Sergeant Barnes, he was denied. Isn’t it reasonable to think he expected the same dismissive treatment from the Accords Panel?”

“Barnes wasn’t denied a lawyer. In fact, Tony offered to get him one, to get the man the help he needed if he signed the Accords. Rogers turned that down.”

Sartini frowned slightly. Rhodey guessed maybe Rogers hadn’t mentioned that little tidbit of information. He paused for a moment, then continued. “Sergeant Barnes was not responsible for the Vienna bombing, was he?”

“No, he was not. However, at the time, there was compelling evidence that he was. And no reason to believe new attacks would not be forthcoming.”

“The Winter Soldier had never operated out in the open like that. Did that not seem suspicious? That there was such compelling evidence when the man had flown under the radar for decades?”

“Yeah, that was suspicious, but it still merited an investigation; hence why he was to be brought in and questioned. For all we knew, the guy had completely lost his mind. There was ample and irrefutable proof that he was potentially dangerous. Surely you didn’t expect the world to ignore that because the man happened to be Rogers’s old buddy?”

Sartini ignored his question and moved on. “At the airport, was Mr Rogers given the opportunity to tell you about the threat?”

“Yes. When we got there, Tony asked him to stand down. He could have done so and told us about it before the fight started.”

“But was Mr Stark really willing to listen? Was Mr T’Challa?”

“Well, I can’t answer for T’Challa, but I know Tony and I know he would have listened. As would I. And Vision. Hell, Natasha listened when she knew next to nothing. But we would have still wanted Barnes, Rogers and Wilson brought in, and Rogers clearly couldn’t have that. They could have stood down and cleared Barnes’s name by legal means, like Tony had offered, and let us – the official Avengers – deal with the Winter Soldiers.” He paused, glowering at Rogers. “But the safest hands were Rogers’s, right? No one else could possibly be good enough to make any decisions or do anything.”

Rogers only looked at Rhodey for a second before lowering his head.

Sartini had nothing else to say.


	13. Defeated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I’m not a lawyer so I claim no accuracy for the court stuff. This isn’t what court is really like. In real life there would probably be objections about things. But this is fiction so let’s go with dramatic license here, shall we? ;) Hope you enjoy.

Sam walked into the courtroom with trepidation. He had faced battles and plenty of dangerous situations, but this was by far the worst. He stood, hands trembling in front of him, as the panel of judges looked down on him with unfriendly faces. There were a few other people around and a camera. Sam didn’t look at anyone, keeping his gaze on a point on the wall behind the judges.

“Mr Wilson,” one of them said. “You have agreed to plead guilty to the charges against you. Was that a decision made of your own free will?”

“Yes,” Sam said in a weak raspy voice. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Yes.”

“Is there anything you would like to say before the sentence?”

Sam swallowed hard and willed his voice not to break. “Yes. I’m sorry for all that I did. I’m sorry for the harm my actions caused, and for the people that got hurt. I’m… I was wrong and I’m sorry.” There, he’d said it. It was just too bad that it made no difference anymore.

“Very well. You are hereby sentenced to 20 years in prison, with the possibility of parole in 15 years contingent upon your good behavior.”

The sound of the gavel seemed terribly loud to Sam. It was the sound of his life ending. He looked around the room in a daze, heart beating frantically inside his chest.

_Oh god. Twenty years._

Jenkins took his arm and led him outside, where they both sat on a bench.

There was a part of him that still couldn’t believe it had come to this. That he was here, having just received a 20 year sentence for crimes too numerous to list.

_How could this have happened?_

_Arrogant_ , Rhodes had said. The word echoed in his mind. He had been arrogant. Exceedingly arrogant. Thoughtless. Reckless. Destructive. He had put himself first. He had felt so lucky, so _important_ , to have been chosen by Captain America to fight beside him, to be an Avenger, to be a real hero. He had not questioned, had not thought. He had followed blindly, believed blindly, trusted blindly. How could he have thought that Steve was perfect? He was just a man. A man woefully unprepared to deal with the modern world, a man trapped in the past, clinging to it so desperately that he forgot everything else.

Jenkins handed him a handkerchief and Sam wiped away the tears he hadn’t even realized were running down his face.

It wasn’t supposed to end this way.

“You have one hour before you’re needed in court to testify. Can I get you anything?” his lawyer asked gently.

 _Yeah, a chance to do things again, to fix this_. Sam shook his head.

It felt like no time at all had passed when Jenkins touched his arm and told him it was time to go. His thoughts had been going round and round in circles of terror and disbelief. His life was over and it was his own fault. He couldn’t believe he had been so stupid.

The courtroom where Steve’s trial was taking place was much bigger than the one in which Sam had received his own sentence. And, unlike his, it was packed with people. Not just the people involved in the trial – judges, lawyers, clerks and security – but dozens of other observers as well, including journalists from all over the world and UN representatives and individual countries’ diplomats. Sam felt ridiculously small as he walked to the witness stand.

He didn’t look at Steve, keeping his gaze on the prosecutor as he told the court his name.

“You have pled guilty to all charges against you. Is that correct, Mr Wilson?” the woman asked.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Sam took a deep breath. He hated this. Hated that he was here, in this position, having to admit to himself and to the whole world how badly he’d fucked up, but it was the least he could do after everything.

“Because I’m guilty. And I’m sorry for all the hurt I caused,” he said again. He thought of Rhodes, of Tony, of the people in Lagos, Bucharest, Berlin, Uganda. _God, so many_ …

The prosecutor nodded and continued. “When the Accords were first presented, you were against them, yes? Why?”

Sam flushed. He’d been so stupid, so arrogant… “I didn’t like General Ross. I thought anything he was involved in couldn’t be good.”

“But former Secretary Ross had nothing to do with the drafting of the Accords. That was done by the UN as a result of demands from many different countries. 117 at the time.”

Again Sam felt like an idiot for not having known that. Why had he not bothered to do any research on it before running his mouth and showing his ignorance? Sam had never cared for politics and had never paid any attention to it. Hell, he’d only bothered to vote once or twice. He disliked the manipulation, the lies, the private interests that fueled political races and had wanted no part in it. He didn’t trust the government, he never had (and finding out that Hydra had infiltrated it had seemed like the perfect validation). Even the Military he hadn’t always been sure about. He’d trusted his fellow soldiers, sure – the guys on the ground, so to speak – but not the higher-ups, not people like Ross. He didn’t trust people in power, because those people never cared about the little people.

And wasn’t it ironic that when Sam himself had come into a position of power in the Avengers, he’d forgotten the little people too? But not Stark. Stark, who had always had more power than any of them, _had_ , in fact, been the one (along with Rhodes and Vision) to think about the ordinary guy on the street.

Sam had read the Accords (he hadn’t had much else to do locked in his cell), both the first version and the revised one, and they weren’t bad – they were actually not that different from what Sam had known in the Air Force. It had been Sam’s instinctive suspicion of politics and power that had made him think they would be about control. The Accords weren’t even entirely about the Avengers, they were about cooperation and compromise, about protecting people – all people – in a more transparent straight-forward way (not at all like Hydra or the World Security Council – which Rhodes had pointed out and Sam had ignored).

“I… I didn’t understand what the Accords were about. I thought… I thought they were something else. Something bad.”

The prosecutor eyed him with disdain. “So you ignored the world’s concern without even bothering to find out what had been proposed?”

Sam nodded miserably. “Yes.”

“What about Mr Rogers? To your knowledge, did he bother to read the Accords before deciding they weren’t to his liking?”

There was nothing Sam could do but tell the truth. “No, I don’t think he read it. Not thoroughly. There wasn’t time.” Or any desire to, not when he (they) had already made up their minds.

Then she asked about Bucharest, how they’d gotten the information on Barnes’s location and why they hadn’t let the proper authorities deal with it.

Sam wanted to sink through the floor and disappear. He could see the judges and guests all watching him as if he was a disgusting bug. (Well, he had already admitted to being guilty of everything…)

“Steve… wanted to be the one to bring Barnes in. He said… he said he was the one least likely to die trying. I… I thought he had a point.”

“And yet, _because_ of Roger’s involvement – and yours – _other_ people died.”

The statement felt like a punch from a super soldier. Worse yet because he couldn’t deny it was true (Jenkins had shown him pictures of the dead and injured). Tears prickled his eyes. With his head down, he murmured. “I’m sorry.” _Sorry isn’t gonna bring those people back. Sorry isn’t gonna cure those who were injured_.

“Did you or Mr Rogers give any thought to the innocent bystanders who might be hurt? Or to the officers who had been doing their job apprehending a dangerous suspected terrorist?”

Sam shook his head, too ashamed to speak. No, they had not thought of it at all.

“Did any of you consider calling the other Avengers – those who had signed the Accords – for assistance?”

Again Sam shook his head. “No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know.” _Tell the truth. The world deserves the truth_. “I guess because Steve – we – didn’t trust Stark and… his friends. The ones who’d sided with him.”

Sam thought of Siberia, the look on Tony’s face as he watched his parents being murdered, the realization that Steve had known and hadn’t told him. And in Wakanda they had all said terrible things about him, had called him a traitor and a sell-out. Sam felt sick.

“You mean those who’d sided with the world’s wishes.”

The world’s wishes… They had been thinking of teams, Steve’s team and Tony’s team, but that hadn’t been the point at all, had it? Rhodes and Vision hadn’t been fighting for Tony, they’d been fighting for the world. To honor the world’s wishes. What had Steve and Sam and the others been fighting for? For the right to _not_ answer to the world, to be the only ones making decisions, to have all the freedom and none of the responsibility of power.

“You are aware that Mr Stark arranged a deal to legitimize your actions in Bucharest, even _after_ that mess?”

“Yes, my lawyer told me. I didn’t know about it at the time. No one told me that was an option.” He sent a brief angry look at Steve then faced the floor again. He couldn’t stand looking at Steve anymore.

“Would you have accepted it, if you’d known about it?”

Sam closed his eyes. Honestly, he didn’t know if he would have. He’d still had his head up his ass then, hadn’t even really understood what they had done, the damage they’d caused, still trapped in his own self-righteousness. _God, what an idiot_.

“I don’t know,” he answered truthfully.

“Tell me what happened after Mr Barnes, Mr Rogers and yourself escaped from the facility in Berlin.”

Haltingly, hating himself more with every word, Sam told the world exactly what had happened, all that they’d done. He didn’t bother to justify their actions – it was too late for that.

“And then Col Rhodes fell and…” God, that should never have happened. “Stark… shot me down. I mean, I was already on the ground, he just… He was kneeling by Rhodes and he looked at me and shot a repulsor at me and I was knocked out.” He’d deserved it. God, he remembered watching Riley fall, unable to do anything to help his friend. He remembered the impotent fury he’d felt. He understood why Stark had done it. And still the man had shown up at the Raft to _help_ Steve, only to be betrayed _again_. Jesus.

“So you deliberately chose _not_ to inform anyone about the supposed threat of the Winter Soldiers, even though you had time and opportunity.”

It wasn’t a question, but she seemed to be expecting an answer anyway. “Yes,” Sam said.

“Because you – Mr Rogers – didn’t trust Mr Stark.”

“I… yes, I guess so.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

She gave him another disdainful look before changing the subject. “Tell us about your escape from the Raft.”

Sam flinched slightly as he recalled the violence they – or rather Steve, Barnes and Clint – had used on the guards. Ross’s goons or not, they had not deserved to be beaten up like that, especially in light of the fact that Sam and the others had actually _been_ criminals. Dangerous ones at that. Still, Sam told them everything.

“What about what happened in Uganda?”

Tears now streaming freely down his face, Sam talked, not daring to lift his eyes from his hands twisting nervously in his lap. _What good are your tears now?_ said the voice of reason that had abandoned him for far too long.

Finally, he raised his head and, through blurry vision, looked around at the assembled lawyers, judges and journalists. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. It… we… I… I’m so sorry. We were wrong. We did it all wrong and I’m sorry.”

For a moment he held Steve’s clear blue eyes, hating the man as he’d never hated anyone in his life (except perhaps himself). Then he slumped back in his seat, utterly defeated.

*****

It was nighttime, though the only reason Wanda knew that was because there was a digital clock that flashed occasionally on the wall of her cell. She couldn’t see the sky from here because there were no windows. She couldn’t see anything but her own cell and part of the hallway outside. She didn’t even know how high up in the Tower she was – not that it would make much difference.

Her lawyer had told her that Steve’s trial had already begun, and that Sam had testified against him today, after pleading guilty. Wanda wasn’t sure how she felt about it. Had Sam betrayed them? Or was it Steve who had, when he’d told them it would be okay? Everything had been his idea, hadn’t it? And look where it’d gotten them. She should never have left the Compound that day. Perhaps she wouldn’t be sitting in this cell chained like a dog if she’d stayed put like Vision had told her. Vision, who had been the one to put the collar on her in the first place. It was all wrong.

Her whole life Wanda had only wanted one thing, which was to avenge her parents. To make Stark – and the world – pay for everything that had been taken from her. She’d let her chance slip through her fingers and now it was too late (maybe she should have listened to Pietro, who had asked her to give up revenge many, many times). Had she been wrong? Had Pietro been right all along? (She missed her brother now more than ever. Who was there to talk to now? To care for her?). Steve had said he cared, but he’d gotten them here, to a cell (to many cells, one after the other).

Dr Yates was no longer coming to see her – had forgotten Wanda just like everyone else had always done – and the others weren’t talking to anyone but their own lawyers, it seemed. Wanda had never felt so alone, so lost. Even after her parents had died, when her world had ended, she’d still had Pietro. Now what did she have? It wasn’t fair.

There was nothing she could do about anything. Her power had been taken away, her freedom taken away. She was just a thing to them now, a thing to be locked up and forgotten about. The world had forgotten Sokovia, why shouldn’t it do the same to her? No one cared. No one had ever cared about her, her destroyed family and home, all her hopes and dreams dashed before they’d even had the chance to blossom.

If she had her power back, she would make the world pay. She would start with Stark and his allies. Even Vision. Yes, Vision had abandoned her too, after he’d told her he’d protect her. She could trust no one. Not even Steve. He didn’t care either. She’d kill him too, if she had the chance. It wasn’t fair.

She wasn’t scared anymore. What could they do to her that was worse than this? Even death wasn’t a big deal anymore. What did she have to live for? What did she have left at all? According to her lawyer her best option was to plead guilty and meekly accept whatever sentence they gave her. It was that or be sent to Sokovia to die, he’d said. She didn’t want to die, but just now she wasn’t too keen on living either. She wasn’t quite ready to be defeated, though. If she had to go down, she wouldn’t go alone.

*****

Steve spent all night tossing and turning, the trial playing in his head again and again. He had not expected Sam to betray him like that, to admit defeat so easily ( _hadn’t you? After the last conversation you had?_ ). It was getting harder and harder to believe in a way out (it was getting harder to believe he’d done the right thing in the first place). First Rhodes and now Sam, both speaking against him (blaming him). Would Clint and Wanda do the same? (Would Bucky?)

In his letter, Steve had told Tony his faith was in people, individuals, but he wasn’t sure about that anymore. The others had turned their backs on him, refusing to talk to him, to let him explain, to understand _why_ he’d done what he did (or perhaps they had heard, and simply hadn’t liked his reasoning). Even Bucky wasn’t speaking to him. Steve felt more alone then he’d ever been. Everywhere he turned all he saw was contempt and anger, polite indifference at best. The people in the streets outside the courthouse had continued to hiss and scream at him as he passed in and out and it seemed to him that the supportive group was getting smaller every day, while the ones against him continued to grow. He’d had faith in people, but people seemed to have lost their faith in him ( _you have given them very little reason to believe their safety is a concern for you_ , Vision had said). Had he been wrong? About people? (About himself?)

When morning dawned, Steve felt exhausted, like he’d been fighting all night long (perhaps he had). Once again Vision escorted him to the courthouse, where people looked at him like a criminal, but instead of taking a seat behind him the android was called to the stand.

Most of what he said was a corroboration of what others had already said, except for the part about what had happened at the Compound. Steve hadn’t known he’d been hurt then; neither Wanda nor Clint had volunteered many details (and he hadn’t asked). He also talked about finding Tony at the bunker in Siberia, and the extent of his injuries (which Steve also hadn’t really known about, because, again, he hadn’t checked and hadn’t asked, even after watching the video, even after talking to Howard – he still wasn’t sure whether Howard had been real or a figment of his imagination).

All Steve could do was sit there and listen to people talking about all the mistakes he’d made (had he? Had they all been mistakes? Hadn’t he done anything right? He’d only been trying to protect people. Right?). He’d never liked politics and endless talking, being unable to _act_. Even when he’d been little Stevie, he’d been willing to make a stand. Now there was nothing to do, no stand left to make.

At the end of the day, he stood too quickly, desperate to escape the oppressive tension in the room, only to see several people near him jump up in alarm as others let out gasps of fear. Even Sartini tensed. Vision was on him in a second, watching him intently, the stone on his forehead glowing faintly. Steve looked around and realized that people were afraid – _terrified_ – of him. He’d been told that before, but somehow he’d thought it was an exaggeration, that it wasn’t really that bad. (It was. _You demonstrated, time and time again, a lack of concern for the feelings and lives of others, and never any remorse for the damage you and your actions caused._ )

It was another sleepless night; nightmares filled with faceless people accusing him of murder, of neglect, of abandoning them. He dreamed about Peggy, about Erskine, about Howard (young and old blending together), all of them pointing accusing fingers and telling him what a disappointment he was. _I believed in you_ , Peggy said. _I thought you would be a good man_ , Erskine said. _You tried to kill my son_ , Howard said, shield in his hand with blood dripping from the edges. _Bucky is gone_ , the Winter Soldier said as he strangled Maria Stark to death. _You failed_ , they all said together. _You failed_.

He woke up choking on air, as if it was _his_ throat being crushed, _his_ ribs broken under the shield, and stumbled into the sink to splash some water on his face. His hands shook and his reflection showed dark circles under his eyes, hair in disarray and face pale. He sat on the bed again, back against the wall and knees drawn up to his chest, and tried to will the remnants of the nightmare away without much success.

Eventually it was time for one more day of court, one more day of the waking nightmare of watching his life and everything he’d ever fought for be questioned and found wanting.

The crowd was still there, still booing him. Steve kept his gaze straight ahead but his enhanced hearing picked up people’s shouts of ‘murderer’, ‘terrorist’, ‘rot in hell’ anyway. By the time he entered the courtroom his hands were shaking again and he was sweating like a pig. He barely made it to his seat before his legs gave out. He took deep breaths to calm himself and waited. God, he wanted this to be over.

“Are you all right, Mr Rogers?” Sartini asked.

“Yes,” he said, even though it was a lie. No one called him Steve anymore, or Cap. It was only Mr Rogers now. Yet one more sign that he was alone and friendless.

The witness this morning was not someone Steve had been expecting. When Dr Helen Cho was called to the stand, Steve frowned. What did _she_ have to do with anything?

“You were a member of the Avengers’ medical staff, is that correct, Dr Cho?” the prosecutor said.

“Yes. I was hired by Tony Stark.”

“Why did you quit?”

“I resigned when I became aware that Miss Maximoff had been made an Avenger. I was already uneasy with the situation before that, but that was the final straw. I spoke to Mr Stark and he agreed to fund my research independent of the Avengers. He was very kind.”

“Why did Miss Maximoff’s inclusion bother you, Dr Cho?”

“Because she helped Ultron. When he broke into my lab and used the alien scepter on me and my staff to turn us into slaves, she was right there beside him, her and her brother. They did nothing to help us. When Ultron shot us and left us for dead, they followed him without a thought to any of us. It was a miracle that only one person died. Myself and three others were rushed to the hospital and eventually recovered. If it had been up to _her_ ” she spat the word in anger “we would be dead.”

Steve swallowed hard. He had not been aware of that (he had not asked). Wanda was a good kid, she’d just been misguided. (Or maybe she had just not cared about anything but herself.)

“I could not stand to work where that murdering terrorist was. Mr Stark was very understanding. And very generous.”

“You said you were uneasy even before. Can you tell us why?”

“Yes. Right after Ultron had escaped from the Tower, after attacking the Avengers, everyone gathered together to figure out what had happened. I was just there to check on the injuries, but… Well, then Thor came in. He’d tried to follow one of the suits Ultron was controlling. When he came in he immediately stormed up to Mr Stark and lifted him up by the throat. It was terrifying.”

“Was Mr Stark in the suit at the time?”

“No, he was not. He’d just said that his AI had been killed and we were all confused about Ultron’s appearance. No one did anything to help him. No one even seemed to care, except for Col Rhodes, who stepped forward. But he’s a normal human too, and without the suit there wasn’t much he could have done. I didn’t say anything about it because I was too scared of Thor.”

She turned to look at Steve, fury and disgust in her eyes. “Mr Rogers there didn’t seem to care in the slightest. It was over quickly and Mr Stark carried on being almost hysterical and all everyone could do was blame him, without even knowing for sure what had happened. He said he and Dr Banner weren’t even close to an interface but no one cared. They only looked at him in anger, like Ultron had been completely his fault.” She paused for a second before continuing, gaze still drilling into Steve. “I guess it was easier to blame him than Dr Banner, who had worked on the program as well. Maybe they didn’t think assaulting the Hulk would be a good idea.” She took a breath then continued, gaze roaming around the courtroom. “Mr Stark said he was worried about a new alien invasion, and that was why he was working on Ultron. He asked how the others were planning to beat that and Rogers said ‘together’.” She snorted and her eyes went back to Steve. “Funny that, isn’t?” She gave Steve another heated glance before focusing on the prosecutor. “After people had calmed down a bit, Col Rhodes, Dr Banner and myself went to check on Mr Stark – his throat was bruised, obviously – and the others just ignored the whole thing.”

There was silence in the courtroom for a few moments. Steve noticed that everyone seemed shocked by Dr Cho’s words, even Sartini, who leaned over to him. “Is this true?” he whispered.

Steve didn’t know how to answer that. Technically yes, but… it hadn’t been like that (hadn’t it?). He’d been angry with Tony when he’d realized he was the one who’d created Ultron (and he had forgotten Bruce’s involvement, hadn’t he?). He’d been frustrated already because the search for Bucky had been going nowhere, and he hadn’t even wanted to attend the party. _Stupid idea_ , he’d thought. _Just throwing money around to show people how important he was_. However, everyone had said they’d be there, so he couldn’t get out of it – Sam had actually been excited. And then it had all gone to hell.

Still, he hadn’t meant to hurt Tony (he hadn’t, it’d been Thor). It wasn’t that he didn’t care (wasn’t it? Had he cared? Had he checked on Tony? No. He might have even thought he’d deserved it).

“Mr Rogers?” Sartini asked again and Steve looked at him helplessly.

“Kinda,” he finally said, ashamed of his behavior now. _Bully_ , Howard had called him. Had he been right? There had been so many times he’d been angry at Tony, when he’d wanted to teach him a lesson. (And he had, hadn’t he? In Siberia. He’d taught him all right. Sent him to the hospital to learn it. _Jesus_.) Steve felt sick.

Even after watching the video from that fight, somehow it hadn’t quite sunk in. Now, hearing Helen Cho talk about it… What would Steve have done if Thor had done that to Bucky? To Sam or Clint? Or Natasha? Would he have thought they deserved it? Would he have ignored it? He couldn’t remember exactly what he’d thought at the time, he only remembered being angry and annoyed at _Tony_ , not Thor.

Oh, god, what was wrong with him? (What had he become?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Tony testifies!


	14. Not so self-righteous

Tony touched down on the roof of the ‘courthouse’ and the armor opened to let him out. Three security guards came up to greet him and take him to the courtroom. One of them shook his hand and smiled. Another one asked if he could sign an autograph for his 11 year-old son. It helped Tony relax a little.

He’d been following the trial through the news and his friends’ accounts, but he hadn’t bothered to actually watch it. At the end of the first week, Clint had tried to shift the blame to Rogers, saying he’d only attacked Vision because he’d been misinformed about the situation with Wanda. He’d also thrown Wanda to the wolves in his testimony, not giving her any justification except she wanted out and didn’t care who she hurt in the process. Obviously Clint was done with the rest of them and was trying to save his own skin. From what Vision had said, however, the judges didn’t seem particularly inclined to be lenient with him – or any of them.

Scott had had his day on the stand as well, and, like Sam, had admitted his ignorance of the Accords (and the big picture in general) and his culpability in the whole thing. He’d apologized too.

Wanda was supposed to testify too, but her lawyer insisted she wasn’t ready yet and she couldn’t be asked to incriminate herself, so she’d been given a pass for now. Apparently her lawyer was trying to convince her to plead guilty, and had a new psychiatrist evaluating and treating her, no doubt trying to lay the groundwork for the diminished capacity defense. It probably wouldn’t do her any good.

Now at the end of the second week, lots of other witnesses had been heard, mostly officers in Lagos, the Raft, Wakanda and Uganda as well as a few bystanders. Lots of watching surveillance footage of Rogers and co destroying things, assaulting people and generally being reckless. The public was very much against them now – even the wackos had become quieter as the trial went on and more and more evidence was piled up against the ExVengers. Now, with every fact coming to light and shown in high definition, the entire world was horrified.

The last nail in Rogers’ coffin would come today, Tony knew. Today all details of Siberia would finally be out. As he walked through the hallways, Tony felt his heart racing and fought to keep himself calm, even though it felt like he was walking to his death. He didn’t want the world to see the tapes, didn’t want to have everyone know how he’d been duped and betrayed, however necessary it was. All his life Tony had been in the public eye, but this… it was too much. Unfortunately, there was no help for it, and he knew it. Hard as it would undoubtedly be, at least Tony knew that his parents weren’t dead anymore (he’d see them at the end of the day), and that, _this_ time, he wouldn’t be blamed for the shit that happened. (And – also a huge silver lining – he wouldn’t have to go anywhere near Barnes, hopefully ever again.)

One of Pomeroy’s assistants was waiting for him outside the courtroom. “Thank you for doing this, Mr Stark,” he said.

“Yeah. Let’s just get it over with, all right?”

“Of course. If you’re ready?”

Tony nodded. The man opened the door and Tony put on his best _Tony fucking Stark_ strut and grin. Barely sparing Rogers a glance, he smiled at the assembled people – many of whom smiled back – and took his seat, making his posture as casual and confident as he could. Rogers would _not_ see him cowered. Not fucking _ever_.

Pomeroy smiled at him and gave him the barest of nods. “Can you please state your name and occupation for the record?”

“Anthony Edward Stark, Avenger. Also Head of R&D for Stark Industries. And former CEO.”

“Thank you, Mr Stark. Would you prefer Dr Stark? You do have a PhD, right?”

“Three, actually. But Mr Stark is fine. I don’t care about titles.” Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Rogers hunched in his chair.

“We’ve already heard testimony about the events in Bucharest, Berlin and several other places where Mr Rogers is accused of committing multiple crimes. I’d like to ask you about what happened in Siberia, after you were informed by Mr Wilson that was Rogers and Barnes’ destination when they escaped from the airport.”

Tony clenched his fists in his lap but remained outwardly calm. He’d been over this in prep, what to say and how to say it. He couldn’t really remember any of it now. Oh, well, he’d always done better winging it.

“When I arrived, Rogers and Barnes were already there, though I suppose they’d only just arrived themselves. The suit is a lot faster than any jet, of course,” he said, with a smile for the cameras, “even a jet I built myself. And that they stole.” The smiled faded away and he turned serious again. “I offered a truce.”

“So you weren’t there to arrest them?”

“No. Well, not entirely. I had discovered that a man named Zemo had murdered Dr Broussard and taken his place in order to trigger the Winter Soldier and get the location of the base where more of them could be found. So, neutralizing them was my priority, though I had every intention of, once again, attempting to persuade Rogers and Barnes to turn themselves in after that had been dealt with.”

“Why did you go alone?”

Tony sighed. “Who else was I going to take? Rhodey was in the hospital, Vision was freaking out over having been the one to fire the shot and in no state to be in the field. Romanoff had changed sides and obviously couldn’t be trusted. T’Challa only cared about revenge and getting Barnes’s head on a platter. Spider-Man…” was a kid who should never have been there in the first place “had been injured in the fight, and I didn’t want to put him in any more danger.” He smiled again, self-deprecatingly this time. “There was no one else, literally. I could have gone to the Accords Panel and the Task Force, but it would have taken too long, and in any case even in a jet they wouldn’t have been able to get there as fast as me in the suit. Plus, you know, we wouldn’t have wanted another group of regular officers going up against super soldiers like in Bucharest.” _Where the officers were pretty much massacred_ went unsaid. “So…” He shrugged. “At that point, there was no longer any time to waste. If we’d been told about it sooner, though…” He trailed off, knowing that everyone already knew _why_ that hadn’t happened. “I did contact the Panel while in route to say I was pursuing Rogers and Barnes and get permission from the Russians to enter the country.”

“And then what happened?”

Tony looked at Pomeroy as he described finding the Winter Soldiers dead and Zemo sitting cozily in his silo, just waiting for the big reveal. When one really thought about it, it’d been a really stupid plan. In fact, it was a miracle it had worked at all. Still, maybe Zemo had actually done Tony a favor: he’d shown him exactly who Rogers was. Now the world was about to find out too. And in the end Zemo hadn’t really succeeded. He’d broken up the Avengers as they had been, sure, but that team had been broken from the get go, so it was no big loss, really. The Avengers were still here, different, but here, and better than ever. The ExVengers would end up in jail, but not Tony. Despite everything, Tony was still here, a phoenix rising from the ashes – again. While Rogers was about to go down into another prison (a real one, not an icy one) – again. Poetic justice, maybe.

“Then I saw the tape. Of the Winter Soldier – formerly Bucky Barnes – murdering my parents, Howard and Maria Stark, in 1987.” He kept his voice level through long practice. It still hurt to remember it, to see it in his mind’s eye. Thanks to fucking Rogers, he would never be able to forget that fucking video.

There were several sudden intakes of breath in the room, followed by shocked silence. Tony looked around and saw sympathy in people’s faces. When they turned to Rogers, however, there was disgust and suspicion.

“I had always believed they died as a result of a car accident, but it was actually an assassination ordered by Hydra and carried out by the Winter Soldier. I asked Rogers if he’d known, since he’d shown no reaction to it – my father was supposed to have been his friend. I mean, my father had always thought of Rogers as a friend.” _Not anymore_. Finally, he turned to Rogers, eyes cold and fury once again threatening to suffocate him (it always did when he thought about it for too long). “He tried to lie, but then he confessed. He _had_ known. Since the fall of SHIELD, probably.”

More sharp breaths were heard, people no doubt doing the math to realize Rogers had kept that secret for _two fucking years_. Rogers looked down, too cowardly to maintain eye contact. Tony turned back to Pomeroy and the room in general.

“I lost it. I admit it wasn’t the best thing to do, but… well, I’m only human, I never claimed to be perfect.” Unlike some other people. “I punched Rogers. Then Barnes attacked me and it became an outright fight.”

“Were you trying to kill them?”

“No. I was just… overwhelmed, I guess. Everything… I… I snapped. Wasn’t thinking. I just wanted them to hurt, like I was hurting. There was no plan, no strategy. I just wanted to beat the shit out of them both.” He’d wanted Rogers to _bleed_ and, right at that moment, Barnes too. He no longer felt that way about Barnes; Rogers, though, could still go straight to hell.

“How did the fight end?”

“Well, I lost. Two Super Soldiers against a baseline human freaking out isn’t good odds, even with the suit. Barnes tried to crush the Arc Reactor and I blasted his metal arm off – self-defense in the suit, really, it wasn’t a conscious decision. Then Rogers kept on until he used his shield – the shield my father made – to smash into the Reactor and disable the suit. And then they left.”

“What was the extent of your injuries?”

Tony recited all he’d been told by the doctors. The surgeries, the broken and cracked bones, everything. People’s expressions went from shocked and suspicious to horrified and furious. _Yep, Rogers is history._

Pomeroy got a remote control and pointed it at the screen on one of the walls. “I’d like to play the video of the confrontation between Mr Stark and Mr Rogers and Mr Barnes. There is no need to watch the _other_ video just now,” she said.

Friday had cleaned it up and edited it as best as she could. Tony didn’t look at it – he knew what had happened. Instead, he watched the room and Rogers, who also refused to look at it (he’d already seen it, anyway, _and_ he’d been there). People gasped and shouted in outrage. A few were crying. Many seemed like they couldn’t believe it was really happening – that it _had_ really happened. There were angry murmurs and a great deal of whispered cursing. The judges were all staring at the screen. Ms Matsunaga’s eyes were huge, one hand over her mouth. Mr Simpson was clenching both fists on the table in front of him. Ms Oliveira seemed horror-stuck, flinching with every blow. Mr Sène had narrowed his eyes and Mr Rezin’s face was red. Even Rogers’ lawyer seemed uncomfortable, squirming in his seat as if he wanted to walk out of there and not come back. Maybe he realized his already weak case had just been shot to pieces.

When the video ended no one spoke. No one seemed to even breathe. Tony saw Rogers raise his head and then hastily lower it again when he noticed the murdering looks directed his way. In spite of it all, Tony almost smiled. _Take that, you fucking bastard_. _You’re finished_.

Next Pomeroy showed some of his medical records detailing his injuries, to more shocked exclamations and frantic whispering. Tony was still uncomfortable about the whole thing, but it was getting better. He could have done without the pitiful looks, though. _Almost over_ , he repeated to himself like a mantra.

“And they just left you there?”

“Yes.”

“Didn’t come back to check you were okay? That help was on the way?”

“They didn’t come back. And I can’t imagine how they would know help was on the way. Vision only arrived almost five hours later. They were long gone by then.”

“How did Vision know to come?”

“When the suit lost power an automatic distress call with its last location was sent out, to Pepper, Rhodey and the Tower’s system. Since Rhodey was still unconscious, Vision took it upon himself to check it out and go help me as soon as he found out, clearing it with the Accords Panel first, of course. If he’d delayed, I would probably have died. It wasn’t just the various injuries, but the cold of the bunker as well. With the suit out of power, I had nothing to protect me from the elements. I could hardly even move.”

“So even if your injuries hadn’t been as bad as they were, simply being stranded there for a prolonged period of time in a disabled suit would have killed you?”

“Yes.”

Pomeroy sent Rogers one final scathing look, as did pretty much everyone in the room. “Thank you, Mr Stark. No further questions.”

Mr Sartini took his time standing up and coming closer to Tony, probably wondering how he could possibly salvage this situation and make his client _not_ seem like a total asshole.

“I’m very sorry for your loss, Mr Stark.”

“Thank you, that’s more than Rogers said – or showed. Funny that, isn’t it?” He saw both Sartini and Rogers flinch a little. Rogers still had his head down. If he thought that would save him, he’d be in for a rude surprise.

“You started the fight, correct?”

“Yes, that’s right. I lost my head after I watched my parents murdered with the murderer standing three feet from me and realized Rogers had known all about it for years and never told me. I can’t imagine anyone else would have reacted differently.” He was done apologizing for being human. He would not apologize for throwing the first punch, not in this situation. That was entirely on Rogers. Before Sartini could say anything Tony continued. “If Rogers had told me before, I wouldn’t have reacted like that. I do know that it wasn’t Barnes’s fault, that he was, in essence, being mind controlled – and I know a bit about what having your mind messed with feels like – so I might have been more rational. But…” He opened his arms in a ‘there you go’ gesture. “I wasn’t given the opportunity to think about it rationally. Because Rogers is a _fucking liar_. And because, I suppose, he didn’t actually give a fuck about me. He was only protecting his good buddy, the only one who matters. And it sure as hell wasn’t me.” He shrugged. “Not sure now why I ever thought he was my friend anyway. Or my father’s, for that matter. It’s quite obvious that he never cared.”

Rogers flinched again. Tony imagined people were thinking about the incident Dr Cho had talked about, angry faces turning to Rogers all around, who hunched in even more. _Good_. _Not so self-righteous now, are you?_

Poor Sartini floundered. “Was not Mr Rogers defending himself as you attempted to kill them–”

Tony interrupted. “No, I didn’t. I’ve already said that. If I wanted to kill them, I would have used the various missiles in the suit. I doubt even a super soldier could survive having his head blasted off. I said I wanted to _hurt_ them. I told Rogers to stand down repeatedly, and the fucker told me, and I quote, ‘I can do this all day’, like it was a _fucking game_. Like I hadn’t just seen my parents brutally _murdered_ , like he hadn’t confessed to _fucking lying_ about it, like my best friend wasn’t in a fucking _hospital_ , like I was some _villain_ he was taunting with his supposed _superiority_.” Tony was breathing hard by the end and took a couple of deep breaths to get himself back together. Once again the room was dead silent. Tony wanted to be done with this whole thing and just go home, to be with his not-dead parents, miraculously returned to him, and forget all about Rogers and his idiotic followers.

“You were conscious and speaking at the time Mr Rogers left?” Sartini asked after a bit.

“Yes.”

“So he might not have realized that you were badly hurt.”

“Not unless he is a complete _idiot_. I mean, I would think that a sufficiently intelligent person would realize that having a fucking _vibranium shield_ rammed into one’s chest with _super human strength_ , enough to _crush the metal in the suit_ , would cause some damage. But maybe I’m expecting too much of dear old Cap. I mean, he didn’t know what the _United Nations_ were, or that you can’t just _invade a country_ willy-nilly whenever you feel like it, so I guess it is possible that he _is_ an idiot and really _didn’t_ realize that he’d just about tried to _murder_ me. Either that or he just didn’t care. Take your pick. Neither option is particularly flattering.” He shrugged again and gave Sartini his nastiest smile.

Rogers finally raised his head and looked at Tony. There were tears in his eyes, but Tony could care less. Before ‘Cap’ had been caught he hadn’t given any thought to Tony or anyone else, sitting in Wakanda in ignorance of the problems he’d caused. He couldn’t even send a _decent_ apology letter.

“Tony, I…”

“Be silent, Mr Rogers,” Mr Rezin said sharply. “It is not your turn to speak and you _will_ respect the rules of this court. You will be gagged if necessary.”

Rogers shrunk back from the angry glare like a chastised puppy. Tony controlled himself not to smile. He still felt vindictive. _Well, it’s not like Rogers didn’t have it coming_. If Tony had to sit here and talk about all these horribly traumatic things, he’d make damn sure Rogers suffered just as much.

“Mr Sartini, do you have any more questions for the witness?” Rezin continued.

What could the poor lawyer do, really? There was no way to make any of this look good. “No, your Honor.”

“Thank you for your time, Mr Stark. You can go now.”

Tony didn’t need to be told twice. Ignoring Rogers completely, he gave a final wave to the cameras (and Vision standing guard behind Rogers) and walked out, head held high. Off home. Finally.

*****

“I’ve had an offer I think you should accept,” Schultz said as she came into the interview room. Clint didn’t look at her, tugging at his cuffed hand absentmindedly. “If you plead guilty, they are prepared to set your sentence at 18 years, with possible parole in 15,” she continued, ignoring his silence.

“Isn’t that the same as Sam?”

“Almost. Mr Wilson agreed to 20, parole in 15.”

“Why can’t I get parole in 13 then?”

“They are not willing to have you out in the street that soon, not with your training and track record. It’s the best you’re going to get. I suggest you take it.”

“My track record? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you once worked killing people for Hydra.”

Clint straightened in the chair and slammed his free hand on the table. “I didn’t know they were fucking Hydra!”

Schultz didn’t move a muscle. “Well, I’m afraid SHIELD isn’t really much better these days. Those are the terms. I suggest you take it,” she repeated.

“What about my defense?”

“Mr Barton, your testimony was a complete disaster. Surely you noticed that Rogers’s judges didn’t buy into your ‘Rogers lied to me’ argument, which was very poorly done. If you try that with your own judges, they will convict you in a heartbeat.”

“I told the truth!”

“You said you believed Miss Maximoff was in danger, but you didn’t bother, by your own admission, to verify that before breaking into the Compound and attacking Vision. If you think that makes you sympathetic, you are very much mistaken. On the stand, you came across as callous and ready to blame anyone else for your own actions.” Her eyes bore holes into him. For a small woman, she sure knew how to be menacing. “There is also the matter of your continuous attempts to evade the law before you were finally captured, like the police car you exploded in Uganda and the officers you injured. You can’t talk your way out of this. No one will listen.”

“What the fuck am I paying you for, then?” he hissed angrily. God, how he wanted to beat the shit out of someone – anyone, but preferably Steve – right now.

Again, the lawyer didn’t seem intimidated. “You are paying me to get you the best possible defense. Right now, the best I can do is advise you to take the deal. You are not going to walk away free, Mr Barton, you already knew that, and I’m not here to mollycoddle you. I’m here to tell you the truth.” She paused, watching him through narrowed eyes. “And this type of display won’t help you in the least.”

Clint clenched his jaw and counted to ten in his head. It would not do to strangle his lawyer, he thought. (It was time for anger now. By the end of the day he’d be back to despondent misery, he was sure).

Eighteen years. For… for following Steve fucking Rogers (for not thinking before doing it). “What about Rogers? Is he getting a deal?”

“I’m not aware of any deals being offered. As it stands, he’s likely to get 35-45 at the very least. After Mr Stark’s testimony today, there are people calling out for life imprisonment, some even the death penalty. I doubt it will come to that, though.”

Life in prison. Or death. _Fuck_. Fuck it, Clint was screwed, wasn’t he? People were out for blood. (Could he really blame them?) “And if I don’t take it?”

“I imagine 20-25 at best. The injuries and destruction from the airport, the Raft and Uganda are bad enough, the attack in Vision only makes it worse. And your own attitude is the final straw.”

She had talked him through how to answer the questions the prosecutor would ask, but Clint had lost his head in the courtroom. He hated talking, he hated having to justify himself. Schultz was right, he’d been a disaster on the stand and he knew it. Having Steve sitting there not looking at Clint had only made the anger worse. He’d only made things harder for himself.

The rage was already draining out of him, leaving hopelessness in its place.

“Take it. Whatever.” It made no difference. He’d already lost everything that mattered.

*****

Friday opened the door for her and Maria walked into the room with the cells. It wasn’t the same one in which Howard had confronted Rogers. This one was on a floor below and currently housed only Mr Wilson; he’d been removed from near the others after accepting the plea bargain, staying in the Tower until the prosecution was sure they wouldn’t need him anymore and while his final destination was decided by the Accords Panel. He was to be transferred to the prison where he would serve his sentence tomorrow, so this was her last opportunity.

She had watched every day of the trial and read a lot of political and social commentary on it, both from the US and from international agencies. It had been quite illuminating, even as it made her see red to know what those bastards had done to her son and others. At least the world was on his side.

Wilson had cried on the stand. Some people had been somewhat sympathetic, suggesting he might have fallen a bit too hard for the legend of Captain America, while others (like Maria herself) weren’t really convinced. It was easy to cry now that he was facing a lengthy prison sentence, wasn’t it? Who could say who he was even crying for, the people he’d hurt or himself? Too little too late, in her opinion.

She stood in front of his cell and waited until he noticed her. “What…? Who are you?” The look in his eyes told her he already knew. Friday had shown him the video, after all.

“I have a few things I’d like to say to you, Mr Wilson.”

Wilson swallowed hard. “Ma’am, I’m sorry. I…” There were tears in his eyes.

“I’m not interested in your apologies, Mr Wilson, or your crocodile tears.” He snapped his mouth shut and averted his gaze, ashamed. Good. He should be ashamed. “You are an ignorant man, Mr Wilson, like many others. You think you know better than others, you think you _are_ better than others. You despised my son, didn’t you? Because he’s rich, and smart, and had it all handed to him, isn’t that right?” She smiled as he flinched. “I’ve met many people like you, Mr Wilson, they’re a dime a dozen. Jealous of other people’s good fortune, envious because you yourself had to fight for everything you have. I understand. Normally, it wouldn’t be a problem. People like you rarely have the chance to _do_ anything about your pettiness except complain in a corner and nurture your resentment.” She took a step forward. “But you… You were given an opportunity. An opportunity to rise above your peers and become something more. A hero. And you failed.” Her voice hardened. “You could have been a hero, Mr Wilson, but you let your prejudice, your ignorance and your blindness get in the way. You destroyed yourself, and a lot of other people – innocent people – in the process.” She was close enough to touch the glass now, while he’d backed away into the corner of his cell. “You hurt my _son_ , and that I cannot ignore or forgive. Do you understand?”

He nodded miserably but remained silent.

“I’m sure the families of the people killed or hurt in Lagos, Bucharest and Uganda won’t either. And there is nothing you can do about it. 32 people died in Lagos and 30 were injured. Seven dead in Bucharest and 18 injured. In Uganda, 20 dead and 43 injured. One death in the Raft and twelve injured. Seven injured in Wakanda. That is what you did. You will live knowing that you are a _failure_ and a _criminal_. That all this,” she indicated the cell “you brought on yourself.”

He was crying openly now. Maria continued. “It’s good that you understand it, and that you at least had the courage to admit your mistakes. I don’t wish you ill, Mr Wilson – this isn’t about revenge – merely that you pay for what you did. And now you will. As you deserve. Justice, Mr Wilson. This is _justice_. For all those people. Don’t ever forget it.”

She walked out calmly, hearing his sobs until the door closed behind her, then only silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I've heard a lot of people saying that Tony broke the Accords when he went to Siberia, but I don't see that. After all, he was supposed to apprehend the fugitives - going after them was his mission. The fact that he didn't tell Ross about it means nothing, since Ross wasn't part of the Accords in the first place. And it made perfect sense for Tony to hide the fact that there were other Winter Soldiers from a guy who he knew had an unhealthy obsession with super soldiers. Sam's stupid 'you have to go alone' idea is just that - stupid. There was no one else that Tony could take, specially not normal soldiers who would get flattened.
> 
> Final note: the chapter count will likely go up, 'cause I've decided to add some stuff because of all the wonderful comments I've had. I'm still working on the additions, but I think I can have a final count to update when I post the next chapter on Sunday.


	15. Unsympathetic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys. There is now one more chapter. I originally didn’t write Wanda’s trial because I wanted to focus on Steve and because if I were to write everything I’d never finish the fic and I was getting impatient to do so. But a lot of people seemed to be looking forward to it, and I didn’t want to disappoint anyone. So, this chapter and the next will deal with Wanda’s trial, though it won’t touch on every single thing. Hopefully it will satisfy people anyway.

“Why can’t I testify?” Steve asked his lawyer the day after Tony’s testimony. The trial was on a break now that the prosecution had finished their case. It would resume Monday with the defense’s case, and Steve wanted to finally have the chance to speak.

It had not been easy listening to all those people saying terrible things about him. At the end of each day Steve had felt more and more disheartened. The hostility from everyone in the courtroom and outside kept growing. When he’d left the building yesterday he had thought he was going to be attacked by the yelling crowd. Vision had all but dragged him to the car while the police (and he’d seen War Machine too) contained the furious mob.

Sartini had had a haggard look on his face as he’d spoken about the repercussions from yesterday in the papers and media in general, which had prompted Steve’s question.

“And what do you think that will accomplish?” Sartini asked, idly shuffling his papers around with a tired air.

“I can explain! I can tell people what really happened!”

“They’ve already _seen_ what really happened.”

Steve flinched, remembering how people had looked at him after the tape of the fight had been shown (and it had been even worse when, after Tony had left, they’d seen the _other_ tape). “But I can explain! I need to explain. I didn’t mean to hurt Tony! I didn’t… I didn’t mean any of it.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It _does_ matter!” Steve shouted. (But in his heart of hearts, he knew Sartini was right.)

The lawyer sighed. “Mr Rogers, I’ve heard your explanation, and as your lawyer, I can tell you it won’t do you any good to tell it to the court.”

“I have a right to speak in my own defense!” Steve couldn’t stand the idea that people hated him, that they thought he was a horrible person. He _needed_ to tell his side of the story. He needed to make people listen. (Though he knew that it was pointless. Judgment had already been passed and nothing he said would make any difference. And there was a part of him that understood why. A part he was constantly trying to ignore.)

“Yes, you do, but if you think it’s going to make things better for you… Well, then you haven’t been paying attention.” He sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose. “All witnesses against you were very compelling. There is little I can do about it. I advised you from the start to plead guilty and see what they offered you. Now I _urge_ you to do so. No, I _beg_ you to do it.”

No, Steve couldn’t do that. He couldn’t plead guilty, because then he would _be_ guilty, and… no, he couldn’t do that. It would be like giving up, and Steve had never _ever_ backed down from a fight, even when he was little. If he had to go down, he would go down fighting. (Fighting? What did he have to fight with? What was he even fighting _for_ anymore?) He would see this through to the end, like he’d always done. Because he couldn’t be guilty, he just couldn’t. He wasn’t a bad person, he wasn’t what people were saying he was. (Even though he could no longer really believed it.) Steve was a good man who had tried to fight the good fight. He might have made mistakes, but he wasn’t a villain. (Was he? Everyone was saying he was. Everywhere he looked that was all he saw on people’s faces. _You failed._ )

“I want to testify,” he repeated. It was the only thing he had left.

Sartini looked at him with an unreadable expression before speaking. “Let me be perfectly honest with you, Mr Rogers. You are, at this point, very unsympathetic, to put it mildly. You have no real excuses for your actions. You remember Mr Barton’s testimony? He didn’t do well. You would no doubt do much worse. You get on the stand and the prosecution will _destroy_ you. You are not good at talking, you don’t seem to understand what’s happened, _why_ this is happening, why people feel as they do. All those people protesting against you outside the UN building? That’s happening all over the world. No matter what you say, your actions have already turned people against you. After yesterday there are people who said you should be given the death penalty.”

 _Death_? Steve’s eyes widened in shock and his heart started racing, but Sartini paid him no mind and continued. “You go on the stand to say you were only trying to protect your friend Barnes – the one people just saw murder Howard and Maria Stark in cold blood – and that you didn’t mean to hurt their grieving son – while abandoning him to die in a freezing Siberia bunker after breaking a nearly indestructible suit –, that you were doing the right thing, the best you could do or whatever, and you will be _crucified_. Do you understand? Stark’s testimony and those videos killed your case. If you can’t be bothered to care for a man the world believed was your friend, what makes you think they’ll believe that you care about any of them? That you _ever_ had anyone’s best interests at heart other than your own and Barnes’s?”

Steve tried to say something, anything to defend himself with, but nothing came out. (Because maybe Sartini was right – as had Howard, Fury and Vision been). Finally he whispered “you’re supposed to help me,” hating how small and scared he sounded.

“This _is_ me helping you, Mr Rogers. You can’t testify. Plead guilty, as I told you to do from the start. Admit you were compromised, that you made mistakes. Apologize. Apologize to the world, to the victims, to the Avengers. It won’t save you from jail, but it might save you from being vilified for the rest of your days.”

“I’m sorry people got hurt,” he said, voice still pathetically weak.

“No, no, that’s not an apology. An apology is ‘I’m sorry _I_ hurt people, I’m sorry _my actions_ hurt people’. This wasn’t an unavoidable fatality like aliens dropping from the sky, this was you _choosing_ a course of action that put people in danger.”

“I had no choice, I had to–”

“Yes, yes, you had to save your friend. But at what cost? That’s what you don’t seem to grasp, Mr Rogers. That’s why you can’t testify.”

“I do understand. I know that things went wrong–”

“No. Again, no. _Things_ didn’t go wrong, Mr Rogers, _you_ did things wrong. Stop thinking about yourself for a moment and try to see things from other people’s perspective. No one cares about the Winter Soldier, Mr Rogers. No one thinks his life is worth more than anyone else’s, and that’s what you continue to insist on. I’ve been listening to you for weeks and that’s all you’ve said. Can’t you see how that doesn’t help you? Can’t you see that that only makes people hate you more? You’re digging a bigger hole for yourself with your insistence on this.”

Steve lowered his head and said nothing. Bucky had been innocent and they were going to kill him. (Except that no, they weren’t. He wasn’t even being prosecuted now. Had it all been for nothing? _You helped no one, not even your friend._ )

“I’ve heard that Barton’s lawyer got him a deal, though I don’t know if he’s accepted it. He should. He did not do well on the stand. You should let me make a deal. Think about it, Mr Rogers. Think about it very carefully. Because frankly, I have nothing to defend you with.”

Sartini’s words kept rattling around in his head that evening as Steve lay on his bed staring at the ceiling in his cell. Sam was no longer in the cell on the far right, he’d already been transferred to a real prison to serve his sentence. Twenty years, _dear god_. It was… It was too much. Steve tried as hard as he could not to think about it. (Though it might just be his own fate soon enough. No, it couldn’t be.)

Scott was also in prison. If Clint took the deal, he would be the next one there. Wanda… Poor Wanda. Steve felt terrible for her. (Though should he, really? She’d helped Ultron of her own free will and people died because of it). He kept trying to talk to her but she hadn’t responded. He was worried about her and didn’t know what he could do to help her (he didn’t know how to help _himself_ ).

What he did know was that he couldn’t give up. Pleading guilty was out of the question. It would be a defeat, an admission that… that everything people had been saying about him was true, and it couldn’t be. That he was arrogant and ignorant and stupid and _unfit._ No, he could not… he could not be. (Even though, deep down, he knew he was.)

*****

The day’s session was over and Wanda was to be taken back to her cell. Sam and Clint were no longer there, Sam gone to prison and Clint to another cell downstairs so he could wait to go to another prison. It was only she and Steve left now, and according to her lawyer Steve would end up in prison soon too.

But not Wanda. Wanda would rather die before being locked up somewhere (somewhere _else_ , since she was already locked up here). For the past week she had been planning, studying the guards and security, waiting for her chance. All she needed was to get the damn collar off, and she would make them pay. Everyone. Stark and all the others. She’d kill his father all over again, see how he liked it.

The new doctor stepped out of the meeting room and Wanda followed meekly. She was no longer cuffed everywhere she went, probably because they thought she was defeated and harmless without her powers. She’d show them.

When the guard (a regular guard, not Vision; he didn’t bother to escort her, he’d abandoned her, _betrayed_ her) reached out to take her arm, Wanda struck. As fast as she could, she twisted and slammed the palm of her hand in his face, like Natasha had once showed her. The man let out a grunt of pain. Wanda took advantage of his inattention to take the gun he carried. She kicked him in the groin and slipped in behind him, pressing the barrow of the gun to his head.

“Get this thing off me now or I’ll blow your head off,” she hissed in the guard’s ear, keeping an eye on the shocked doctor cowering on the other side of the hallway.

“Miss Maximoff,” the doctor said, trying to sound calm even though Wanda could see his hands trembling, “you don’t want to do this.”

Wanda smiled nastily. “Oh, but I do. I will not be a prisoner anymore. Now get this thing OFF ME!” she screeched at the guard.

“I can’t,” he said. “I don’t know how.”

“LIAR!” Wanda used the butt of the gun to hit him, though not as hard as she could have. She needed him alive for now. “Do it now!”

“Miss Maximoff,” the doctor tried again, and Wanda lost patience. Keeping hold of the guard with one hand, she quickly fired a shot in the doctor’s direction, not caring whether she’d hit him or not. He screamed and threw himself to the ground. Good, she had hit him. She expected blood, but there was none. He simply slumped down. A tranq gun, she realized. Damn it. Still, it could be useful. Maybe the guard would take her more seriously if he saw she was ready to shoot.

Then Wanda felt movement behind her and turned to see Vision looming there. He touched her forehead and everything went dark.

When she woke up, she was back in her cell, the collar still on her neck. _No, no. NO!_ Wanda screamed and raged until she was hoarse and the tears made it impossible for her to see anything. Her hands were bleeding from hitting the walls and the floor repeatedly. _Oh, god. Please. Help me_.

After her rage had been spent and she was left rocking herself helplessly, she finally heard Steve talking to her from his cell.

“Wanda! Wanda, please, talk to me!”

She screamed again. “I will kill you! I will kill you all! I will destroy the world! Everyone will die! Stark, do you hear me? I will kill all your friends and all your family. I will destroy you like I should have done when I had the chance! Vision too, you traitor! You locked me here! You will ALL die!”

“If you don’t shut up, Miss Maximoff, I will sedate you,” the voice in the walls said.

“I don’t care! I will kill you too! YOU WILL ALL DIE!”

Wanda kicked at the glass wall of her cell with renewed vigor, shouting obscenities in English and in her native language until she started to feel weak and lightheaded. In a few moments, she was on the floor, unconscious.

*****

The tension in the room was obvious even for someone still learning about human emotion. Vision observed as Ms Pomeroy tapped her fingers on the table, a gesture of nervousness, while Miss Maximoff’s lawyer was hunched in his seat, not making eye contact with anyone.

“We can’t have her in court, it’s too dangerous,” Mr Burlap said. “What if that collar fails? What if she manages to get it off somehow? What if she gets hold of a gun, or any weapon? There’s no telling what she’ll do.”

Rhodes snorted. “Actually, I think we all know perfectly well what she’ll do – she certainly ranted about it loud enough.”

Vision had been monitoring Miss Maximoff, along with Friday, ever since her escape attempt the day before, and had presented the tape of her threats to the Accords Prosecution Office and the UN investigators so a decision could be made about how to proceed with the case against her. After Friday had sedated her, he had moved her to one of the cells in the lower level, temporarily getting Barton back to Roger’s floor until he the prison authorities came to collect him. It had been decided that Maximoff should be in isolation for now – even her lawyer would speak to her through the glass and no longer in the meeting room to avoid further problems.

“She’s not well,” her lawyer said, rather timidly. Mr Anderson was a young public defender with little experience with someone as unstable and dangerous as Maximoff. He seemed like he wanted nothing to do with this situation, but was duty-bound to continue to defend her.

“She’s dangerous,” Dr Taylor, the psychiatrist she’s shot, said with an unhappy expression. If the gun the guard had carried that been a real gun, he might have been killed. “That wasn’t a spur of the moment thing; she planned it, probably for a while, lulling us into a false sense of security by appearing to be compliant until she had an opportunity to act.”

“She’s still entitled to a defense,” Anderson reminded them.

“And she will have it,” Pomeroy said. “However, Ed’s right, we can’t have her in court. We can do it by video from her cell. The public’s safety must be out first concern. Mr Anderson, are you ready to begin?”

“I… well… I…”

“We can’t wait any longer. The sooner we get this done the better. The trial will begin tomorrow, along with the defense’s case for Rogers. No one but Mr Anderson or Vision is to have any contact with Miss Maximoff until further notice. Dr Taylor, you will be called to testify about this incident. Is that all right?”

“Yes, of course. I was already going to testify anyway. Is the guard all right? In all the confusion yesterday I forgot to ask.”

“He’s fine,” Rhodes answered. “Vision got there before she could do him much harm.” He sighed before continuing. “We’ve called Dr Strange to be on standby at the Tower while Vision babysits Rogers, and he’s bringing in a few of his magic friends. Tony, Bruce and Strange are looking into ways of removing Maximoff’s powers permanently.”

“Can that be done?” Mr Burlap asked.

“I don’t know, but if it can, Tony and the others will figure it out. They’re making it top priority.”

With the meeting over, Vision was about to return to his monitoring duties when Rhodes called him. “Viz, you okay?”

“I am well.”

“You sure?”

“I no longer harbor any feelings for Miss Maximoff.”

“Yeah, I know, but… I gotta admit, she scares the shit out of me. And now she’s threatened you.”

“I am not afraid of her, though I appreciate your concern. I am simply…” he hesitated, not sure how to phrase what he felt. “Sad? Perhaps disappointed, that I was so wrong about her.”

Rhodes nodded and sighed. “We were all wrong about a lot of people, Viz.”

Yes, that was certainly true.

*****

The first day of Maximoff’s trial was enough of a media circus that it eclipsed even Rogers’s. The presiding judge began by explaining why Miss Maximoff was not in the room in person, though a video link between her cell and the courtroom had been established so everyone could see each other. He then proceeded to read the very long list of her crimes, starting with the things she’d done for Hydra, through joining Ultron, her actions as part of the Avengers (and ExVengers) under Rogers’ command, and her most recent assault on Dr Taylor and Mr Fisher, the Stark Tower security guard. It took quite a while to read through it all.

Maximoff kept interrupting to say that it hadn’t been like that, that she’d tried to help people, that her parents had been murdered and she simply _had_ to do something about it. After the third interruption, the judge ordered the audio from her cell cut since it was not possible to gag her, and carried on.

As he waited to be called to the stand, Bruce observed the people in the courtroom. The journalists were typing frantically into their computers and tablets, and Bruce was sure that the evening news would be all about Maximoff and her crimes. The assembled diplomats had appalled expressions as the list of crimes went on. The representatives from Sokovia and Uganda in particular looked like they’d be happy to strangle her with their own hands – and Bruce couldn’t blame them (he had once had the same thought, after all).

He was called as one of the first witnesses. He took his seat and fidgeted with the cuffs of his suit. _Tony did this_ , he thought, _I can do this too_. He _needed_ to do this. He should have done it years ago, in fact.

The lead prosecutor for Maximoff’s case, Mr Barrows, stood and the courtroom fell silent.

“Please state your name and occupation for the record.”

“Dr Robert Bruce Banner. I’m and Avenger and a scientist.”

“When did you first come to know of Miss Maximoff?”

Bruce took a deep breath to settle his nerves. He’d never liked being in the spotlight, but this was important. The world needed to hear this. “After SHIELD fell, we – the Avengers – learned that Hydra had taken possession of the alien scepter that had been used during the invasion, so we began to search for it. It was far too dangerous a weapon to leave in their hands. Thor wanted to take it back to Asgard. One of the Hydra strongholds we searched was the one in Sokovia, where we finally found it, and that’s where we first met the Maximoffs. I did not see them then, but Rogers and Barton did. I learned about them later from Maria Hill, who was responsible for gathering intelligence for the Avengers’ missions. We were told that the Maximoff twins had volunteered for Hydra at the age of 18 and were the subject of illegal and possibly dangerous experiments that gave them powers. Pietro Maximoff got increased metabolism and improved thermal homeostasis – ‘super-speed’, for lack of a better word – and Wanda Maximoff got telekinesis and mental manipulation. They were working under the direction of Baron von Strucker – well, at least until they killed them. Then they joined Ultron.”

“There has been a lot of speculation about the creation of Ultron. Can you clarify what happened?”

“It was Tony’s idea, initially, to create a sort of… protective network around the Earth. Its goal was to defend the planet against further alien invasions. We worked on it together for a while, but couldn’t really get it done the way we wanted it. We’d scrapped the project altogether until we got back from Sokovia, when Tony suggested we should try it again. We planned to study the scepter and see how its mechanism could help us build Ultron.”

“Did you?”

“No. We ran several simulations and they all failed. We were unable to integrate the program. I don’t know how it activated on its own. It should not have been possible. And in any case, the Ultron that somehow emerged had nothing to do with the program we were working on. Our theory is that some kind of intelligence in the scepter interfered and re-wrote the program to suit its own needs. Ultron was not what we were attempting to create; it just took the name we had given it.”

“Were you ‘playing with things you shouldn’t’, as the saying goes?”

“We were studying an alien artifact, not playing with it. We took all possible precautions, but obviously we did not know much about its capabilities. There are always risks in scientific endeavors into the unknown, but if no one had ever taken them we would never have advanced as a civilization. Ultron was not our doing. An independent scientific board of inquiry has cleared us of responsibility in that matter. What happened was an accident that could not have been foreseen, not carelessness.”

“Thank you, Doctor. Tell us what happened when you confronted Ultron in Johannesburg.”

“We had reason to believe Ultron wanted vibranium, so we went to South Africa to stop him from getting it. We confronted him – and the Maximoffs – in a ship, away from the civilian population. Well, the others did. I stayed with the jet, waiting to see if the Hulk would be needed. I heard Barton and Tony talking on the comm about how Rogers, Thor and Romanoff had been compromised and then… Wanda Maximoff was there, in the jet.” He couldn’t keep the anger and disgust from his voice – not that he wanted to, of course. “She smiled at me, waved her hands and red mist flowed around them. It felt like… not like a transformation, more like… like being hypnotized. When I finally came back to myself, I learned that the Hulk – that I” (he had been trying not to separate the Hulk and himself in his mind, but it was still a work in progress) “had attacked the city.”

“You do not remember that?”

“Not really. I remember flashes of anger and fear and confusion. And an impression of helplessness, the sense that something wasn’t right. It’s… not clear.”

“Is that not the norm when you transform into the Hulk?”

“Not exactly. Before… I mean, when I first began transforming, I didn’t remember anything afterwards. Then, as time went on, things became clearer. I’d remember things I did – a bit like it was a dream, but I remembered in general what had happened, if not specific details. And there was never the sense of unreality I had from Maximoff’s manipulation. Since I re-joined the Avengers, my memories have gotten clearer still” (probably because, as Tony kept pointing out, he’s stopped fighting the whole thing so much and had even began to embrace it in a way). “At the time, however, I usually remembered the… gist of things, so to speak.”

“So you believe you were manipulated?”

“Oh, yes, absolutely. The Hulk – I – would never have attacked Tony. Or innocent civilians, for that matter. Afterwards, when we were… regrouping, I spoke with Romanoff and she described much the same feeling – and we know for a fact she had her head messed with by Maximoff.”

“What was the result of the Hulk’s attack on Johannesburg?”

Guilt and anger made Bruce grind his teeth. That should _never_ have happened. “Two people died and 24 were badly injured. It would have been a lot more if Tony hadn’t deployed the Hulkbuster armor to subdue the Hulk – me – while protecting the civilians around.” It could have been the whole city. _Dear God_.

“That was designed by Mr Stark and yourself, isn’t that correct?”

“Yes. For exactly that kind of situation – if I got out of control. Tony didn’t think it would ever be needed, but… well, I guess we never know when a crazy terrorist will decide to wind the Hulk up and set him loose on innocent people for fun. Basically turn him – me – into a weapon.” And wasn’t it just lovely that Rogers had defended his brainwashed friend because he was just the weapon, but poor Wanda – who also turned people into weapons – had been given a pass on everything she did? Bruce hoped he’d see this, see the whole of Maximoff’s trial, and realize what he’d brought into the team, what he’d unleashed on the world. Who he kept protecting, no matter what she did or who she killed.

“So, you believe that Miss Maximoff knew what she was doing when she used her powers on you?”

“Oh, yes, she knew perfectly well. As I said, she smiled right before she essentially mind-raped me. Her plan was to destroy the Avengers, after all.”

“When was the next time you saw Miss Maximoff?”

“It was a couple of days later. We were back at the Tower. Tony and I were working on… trying to fix Ultron, I guess. I mean, we wanted to do what Ultron was supposed to be in the first place, before the scepter highjacked the program and twisted it into something unrecognizable. The Maximoffs came in with Rogers. He told us to stop what we were doing.”

“Why did Mr Rogers bring the Maximoffs to the Tower?”

“He said they were on our side, that they’d come to help. I didn’t believe him. I thought she was manipulating him like she’s done to me – to us – before.”

“Was she?”

“No, apparently not. Rogers just decided to take the word of a terrorist over that of his teammates. He threw the shield at the equipment to stop the program we were running and attacked Tony. It was… a mess.” Bruce clenched his fists, remembering that moment. “I wanted nothing to do with Maximoff, but everyone else – except Tony, I guess – was okay with giving them a chance. Or maybe desperate enough to take anyone.”

“Did the Maximoffs express any regret for what they had done to you – to the Avengers?”

“No, I don’t think so. Not to me, anyway. They seemed concerned that Ultron planned to destroy the world, though. As they should, since it would mean they’d get killed too.”

“What happened after the battle?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t there. I left.” He shouldn’t have. Always running away from problems instead of facing them. And look what had happened. “I… I was never really that keen on being an Avenger in the first place. I was there mostly as a favor to Tony, who is my friend.” A friend he had abandoned to the wolves. “But after that… I couldn’t stay anymore. How could I trust that Maximoff wouldn’t try to use me again? Or that Romanoff wouldn’t? She’d triggered a transformation against my express wishes. I guess consent wasn’t something most of them were concerned with. They… the Avengers, that team… it was never really a team. It was a disaster waiting to happen. And it happened.” He sighed. “I shouldn’t have run away. Maybe if I’d been there, Maximoff would have been put in jail long ago and the people she killed later would still be alive. I am deeply sorry for that.” He looked at the diplomats around the room, finding the ones from Uganda and South Africa. “That woman should never have been an Avenger, and I might have been able to stop that if I hadn’t left. I’m sorry.”

“But it wasn’t your decision to put her on the team,” Barrows said.

“No, it wasn’t. It was Rogers’s decision. I believe he said she deserved a second chance.”

As Bruce had predicted, the evening news focused on Maximoff’s trial and were not at all flattering to Rogers, the man who had rewarded a dangerous, unstable terrorist who had attacked his own team members with a spot in the Avengers without any thought to the damage she had done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been re-writing this chapter for days and finally finished it last night. I was kinda vague about some AoU events because I don’t have the movie on me to re-watch but didn’t want to delay posting it. Hope you enjoy it and let me know what you think.


	16. The end of the line

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, people. We're nearly at the end now. Time to find out Wanda and Steve's fate. Hope you like it. Let me know what you think.

The second day of Maximoff’s trial was even more damaging than the first, Friday thought, with all the evidence of her work with Hydra – and the reason why she joined them in the first place – presented in the form of files and videos the Sokovia government had found and organized (apparently Hydra documented everything). It included a psych profile they had done on the Maximoffs that presented them, particularly Wanda, as highly selfish, motivated and prepared to do whatever it took to accomplish their revenge.

 _It is easy_ , one report said, _to nurture her irrational hatred of Tony Stark. She has convinced herself – and her brother, who follows along and complies with her every demand – that he is responsible for her parents’ death. They are the ideal candidates for the experiment. Young, expendable and desperate for power_.

From her cell, Maximoff shouted that Boss was a murderer and that he deserved to die.

“Miss Maximoff, I have told you repeatedly, you are not to speak during the court proceedings. Your lawyer should be the one to speak for you. That is how this works. If you continue despite these warnings, whatever you say may be used as further evidence against you.”

Maximoff snorted. “You have all been bought by Stark anyway. You don’t care what I’ve suffered, what I’ve had to do to survive–”

“Please cut the audio,” Mr Chambal ordered, and Friday obliged while dutifully recording everything as it might be used later. Maximoff could still be seen pacing and snarling like a rabid dog – a comparison that Friday felt was rather insulting to dogs everywhere. “Mr Anderson, please instruct your client to remain silent. Again.”

Anderson nodded, looking embarrassed. It was hardly his fault, Friday thought, that Maximoff had gone off the deep end.

The press was having a field day with the whole thing – it was even worse than in the aftermath of Lagos. People wanted her executed as a war criminal and a terrorist now more than ever. A petition for that had been started yesterday by one of the victim’s family in Johannesburg and circulated through the Internet, gathering over a million signatures in just a few hours.

On the third day, Vision was called to testify, leaving Ms van Dyne to guard Rogers.

“Did you tell Miss Maximoff why she was being asked to remain at the Compound after the tragedy in Lagos?” Mr Barrows asked.

“I did. And it was my impression that she had understood. She agreed to stay inside, in any case.”

“What happened when Mr Barton arrived?”

“He had laid in a trap for me and attempted to persuade Miss Maximoff to leave with him while I was caught in it.” 

“What reason did he give?”

“That Mr Rogers required their assistance and that, if she wanted to make amends, she should follow him.”

“Did he say what Mr Rogers needed assistance with?”

“No, he did not.”

“Then what happened?”

“I attempted to subdue Mr Barton. I told him he would not be able to overpower me, so he turned to Miss Maximoff and said she could. I tried to talk to her, to dissuade her from such action, but she did not listen and used her powers against me.”

“Did you at any point threaten Miss Maximoff? Or Mr Barton?”

“No. I used minimal force with Mr Barton. I was only attempting to contain him, not harm him. As for Miss Maximoff…” Vision paused for a moment, then continued. “At the time, I considered her a friend. I had, in fact, promised to protect her.”

“And she turned against you.”

“Yes.”

“Had she been violent with you before?”

“Not with me, no. Never. Which was why I was so shocked at her behavior. I had given her no cause to think I would harm her, yet she did not hesitate to attack me.”

Mr Barrows then showed the tape of the confrontation at the Compound. It had already been shown at Rogers’ trial, but it still packed a punch, as the saying went, considering everything else the public had learned about Maximoff in the interim.

“Were you injured?” Mr Barrows asked once the video ended.

“Not significantly. I was… rather dazed. And I felt… betrayed and confused. Despite my abilities, it took me some time to get out from the debris.”

“Did either Miss Maximoff or Mr Barton check on you before they left? Did they know you were not injured?”

“They did not check on me, no. I do not know if they believed I was injured or not.”

“Tell us about the incident last Friday, when Miss Maximoff tried to escape from Stark Tower.”

“I was alerted by the Tower’s security system that Miss Maximoff had taken a guard hostage and acted immediately to stop her before she could cause more damage. However, she had managed to shoot a tranquilizer dart into the psychiatrist who had been assessing her before I arrived.”

“Has Miss Maximoff expressed any regret for her actions, to your knowledge?”

“No, she has not. In fact, in the last few days she has continuously made threats against myself, Mr Stark, Mr Rogers and the world at large.”

“Do you think she would actually carry out those threats, given a chance?”

“Yes, I believe she would. She has shown repeatedly that she is not concerned with the lives and feelings of others.”

That evening, Friday took the liberty of showing Rogers the highlights from Maximoff’s trial. She thought he should see exactly who his precious Wanda was – who he had been so keen on defending. He did not say much in response – in fact, he tried not to see it at all, but Friday refused to let him evade the truth. She watched with satisfaction as he winced at Dr Banner’s testimony and paled at the evidence from the Hydra videos and reports.

He had already seen the people’s response outside the UN building – all the people that had been protesting against him now sported new signs for Maximoff. There didn’t seem to be anyone left on the pro side. Even if people still supported him, they were now wise enough to keep their mouths shut about it lest they be accused of sympathizing with terrorists. There had been a group burning ‘Cap’s’ merchandise a couple of days ago, and a petition had also been created to eliminate Captain America’s presence from any World War II exhibit, as well as history books, which Friday thought was taking things a bit too far. People were really angry, though.

Rogers’ own defense, meanwhile, was going very poorly indeed. Mr Sartini really had very little to work with, after all, and Rogers continued to adamantly refuse a plea, even when Sartini practically begged him to. If Friday had a body, she would shake her head at such idiotic stubbornness. At least Rogers had been smart enough to defer to his lawyer’s advice and not testify.

Dr Helen Cho was the first witness on the fourth day, detailing everything she remembered the Maximoffs saying and doing while she was helpless under Ultron’s control.

“She was impatient with Ultron because he wanted to build himself a body while she only wanted to kill the Avengers,” Dr Cho said. “She only turned against him when she realized he wanted to destroy the whole world, with her in it.”

“Dr Cho, is it possible that Ultron was controlling Miss Maximoff like he did with you?” Mr Anderson asked on cross-examination.

“No. The people Ultron controlled had shining blue eyes, and that wasn’t present in either of the Maximoffs. They were with him of their own free will, for their own reasons.”

The police officers from Uganda were next, all of them reporting how Maximoff that tossed them aside like trash after she and the ExVengers had attacked both criminals and official forces. Injuries and casualties were listed, increasing people’s horror and outrage. The soldiers in the Raft said pretty much the same.

“She smiled as she used her powers on us. I saw one of my mates twisting on the floor caught in a nightmare she put into his mind, and she smiled,” one of them said.

Next was Dr Taylor. He told the court how Maximoff had shot him while trying to escape and then gave his professional assessment of her.

“Miss Maximoff exhibits some signs of narcissistic personality, in that she values only herself while being indifferent to the lives and feelings of others. She also refuses to accept any fault in her own actions, instead blaming others for everything that does not go according to her plan. Unlike the classic narcissist, however, she has constructed a narrative of the world in which she is a victim of outside circumstances who has to fight against life’s cruelties. She manipulates others by appealing to their sympathies, and by expressing regret for past actions, though any such regret is only momentary, and is gone when she realizes that it does not garner her sympathy anymore.”

“Dr Taylor, that kind of behavior is not that of a normal person, is it?”

“If you consider a normal person as someone who has some empathy for others, then no, it is not.”

“Can a person like that understand the consequences of their actions as to be legally responsible for them?”

“The American Psychiatric Association and many other psychiatric associations throughout the world do not accept anti-social personality disorders such as what is commonly known as sociopathy or psychopathy as grounds for evading legal responsibility for a crime. So, whether or not someone like Miss Maximoff can truly comprehend the harm she has done to others, she must still answer for it.”

“Does Miss Maximoff have such a disorder?”

“The recognized criteria for determining whether someone has an anti-social personality disorder is a pervasive pattern of disregard for and violation of the rights of others occurring since age 18, as indicated by three or more of some characteristics: first, failure to conform to social norms with respect to lawful behaviors as indicated by repeatedly performing acts that are grounds for arrest; second, deceitfulness, as indicated by repeated lying or conning others for personal profit or pleasure; third, impulsivity or failure to plan ahead; fourth, irritability and aggressiveness, as indicated by repeated physical fights or assaults; fifth, reckless disregard for safety of self or others; sixth, consistent irresponsibility, as indicated by repeated failure to sustain consistent work behavior or to honor financial obligations; and seventh, lack of remorse, as indicated by being indifferent to, or rationalizing, having hurt, mistreated, or stolen from another. From my observations, Miss Maximoff exhibits most of these behaviors. So yes, she does.”

“In your opinion, would she commit further crimes if she had the chance?”

“Yes, I believe so. I have observed her the last few days as this trial progressed, and she seems to be becoming even more violent and unhinged, elaborating revenge fantasies and insisting she is being treated unfairly, that she was betrayed by those she trusted. I think she is definitely a danger to everyone around her.”

Mr Barrows looked at the screen that showed Maximoff’s cell (still muted), and she obligingly proved Dr Taylor right by screaming silently at everyone and looking like a deranged lunatic. People in the courtroom seemed both disgusted and frightened.

“Thank you, doctor. No further questions.”

Mr Anderson took his time standing up, squaring his shoulders as he addressed the doctor. His case was hopeless and he knew it, but he still had a job to do.

“Miss Maximoff suffered a traumatic loss at a young age, isn’t that correct?”

“Yes. She lost her parents when she was ten years old.”

“Isn’t it true that, when people suffer such trauma, they can have difficulty processing it?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“Is it possible that Miss Maximoff’s healthy mental development was compromised by it?”

“Certainly. However, that does not exempt her from responsibility for her actions.”

“Could her development have been affected in such a way that she was incapable of growing up past the age of ten, when she suffered this trauma?”

“Though that scenario can happen, I do not believe it to be the case with her. Her decisions – to join Hydra and Ultron for revenge and all the actions she took to make that happen, for instance – show far too much sophistication and meticulous planning. Not what you would expect from a child of that age. She is immature, yes, but all selfish people are. She might _act_ like a violent spoiled child, but she is _not_ one. She _is_ mentally competent.”

There was really nothing more Mr Anderson could do.

*****

James was sitting in Dr Flores’s office, watching the last day of Steve’s trial, the day the judges would issue their final verdict and sentence, which was being broadcast live for the whole world. He’d asked to see it, and Dr Flores had eventually agreed provided he was also present. James had no objection to that. In fact, he was glad for it.

Yesterday, Wanda Maximoff had been declared a war criminal and had been found guilty of all charges against her, which included terrorism and attempted genocide. She had been sentenced to death. (And James had felt nothing but relief. The idea that someone like her was out there was absolutely terrifying to him. She represented his worst nightmare, being twisted to Hydra’s cause again.)

James hadn’t seen her trial, or Steve’s, but he had read about them from the newspapers he was given every day. Two hours a day he was allowed internet access on his tablet, and he used it to search for information on the trial. It was almost hard to believe that his Stevie had turned into this. How could he have allowed a Hydra terrorist into the Avengers? A woman who had tortured people and manipulated their minds for Hydra? It was… inconceivable. Then he remembered what had happened in the ‘Civil War’, the things Steve had done and said, and… well. The truth was that Stevie had been gone from the moment he’d agreed to let some crazy scientist use him as a lab rat in order to become important. The self-righteousness and propensity for violence had always been there, James remembered, but it was a bigger problem for Stevie himself than anyone else while he’d been a little twig. Now… James shook his head. It was difficult to imagine how a boy who had once vowed to protect others could have shown such disregard for so many people. Had Maximoff messed with his head? Or was Steve really just taken in by a pretty face and a sad story?

Steve stood when the presiding judge called his name, looking both defiant and scared – there was an echo of Stevie in his expression that made James’s heart break for the friend he’d lost. Then Steve straightened and stood to full height, and the effect was lost; he looked like the bullies he’d always claimed to fight against.

“Mr Rogers, you stand accused of numerous serious crimes, too many to list right now. You have failed to provide a satisfactory defense for any of it. Moreover, the testimony of witnesses and the evidence of photos and surveillance videos tell us that you gave no thought to the possible consequences of your actions, either for those around you or the world at large, the world that you claimed you wished to protect. There is no doubt in anyone’s mind that you cannot be allowed to go free. You have refused to admit your mistakes and take responsibility. So we will have to do it for you.”

The man paused and James watched Steve slowly become smaller.

“Steven Grant Rogers, we, the judges chosen by the Accords Panel, find you guilty of all charges. You are hereby sentenced to a term of 40 years in prison without the possibility of parole. Your callous disregard for human life is a grave insult to all who once believed you a hero.” The sound of the gavel echoed in the silent room.

For a while, no one moved in the courtroom. James still had his eyes locked on Steve, who was staring ahead with slightly wide eyes as if he couldn’t believe it was really happening.

“Take the prisoner away.”

The room exploded into chaos, people shouting and cheering, but James didn’t want to see anymore.

Dr Flores turned off the television and waited. James didn’t know what he was supposed to say or think. All he could do was breathe.

He had no idea how much time had passed when Dr Flores touched his arm. “James? Are you all right?”

Was he? He didn’t know. He felt like he’d lost something but couldn’t really say what it was. It wasn’t Steve, it was… something unidentifiable, intangible. Faith, maybe. Or the past. He didn’t know.

“I’d like to go back to my cell now.”

“All right.”

James laid awake all night, trying to make sense of his own feelings. Rationally, he understood that the sentence had been right, that Steve was guilty of all he’d been accused of. Still, Steve had done it all for him, for _Bucky_. Did that make it James’s fault too? Were those crimes his crimes as well? No. No, James hadn’t asked for any of it. He had stayed away for a reason. He’d never been given a chance to voice his objection (and he didn’t think Steve would have listened even if he had). It might have been done in his name, but it wasn’t done by him, or at his request.

He should have tried harder to stop Steve. At the airport. In Siberia. Hell, before that. Way, way before, when Stevie kept insisting on fighting people who didn’t agree with him, whether they were really bullies or not. It had all gone so horribly wrong, and now he had even more blood on his hands. He’d talked to Dr Flores about it a lot, what role he’d played in those events. There were times when he knew, beyond a doubt, that he’d fucked up, that he’d made all the wrong choices. There were also moments when he couldn’t understand how things had happened the way they had, when he couldn’t remember why he’d done the things he did, times when he felt like he’d just been dragged along for the ride without any understanding of the situation, just operating on instinct and fear. How responsible he’d been was still uncertain, but James did know that when it came time for his own trial, he would admit to everything and accept whatever punishment he was given. It was the least he could do.

He wished he could talk to Tony Stark, that he could apologize. It wasn’t a good idea, Dr Flores had told him. Not now. Perhaps in a few more months, with a bit more distance from the trial and all the feelings it had no doubt brought up, Stark might be willing to accept it. Not in person, of course; James wouldn’t dream of imposing his presence on the man. A letter would do. James would have time to think about what he wanted to say and how to say it. He just needed to do something to make it better, to let Stark know how sorry he was about everything.

In the morning, James was no closer to figuring out his feelings, so he decided to write Steve a letter. The man had once been a friend, and even if things had changed – _they_ had changed – James felt he should at least reach out one last time. However angry he was with Steve, he felt sorry for him too. He wrote the way Dr Flores had told him to, without thinking about it too much or second-guessing himself, just putting his feelings into paper as fast as he could. It might not make much sense in the end – he didn’t reread it – but it made him feel better, like he’d finally done something, however small the gesture might be. Whether Steve would find it comforting, James didn’t know, though he doubted anything would now.

He stared at the letter for a long time. That, more than anything, symbolized the end, for him. He had once told Steve he’d be with him till the end of the line, and now it had come. Whether that was a good or bad thing only time would tell.

*****

It was over. Done. Justice served. Howard wanted to celebrate, but there was a part of him that just wanted to cry because the whole thing had happened in the first place. It was still hard to believe a man he had once had such faith in could have fucked it up this badly. Not just making a mistake – anyone could do that – but make _those_ kinds of _disastrous_ mistakes – not to mention the awful betrayal – and refuse to admit it and take responsibility for it. Well, now he would have to.

Sam Wilson and Clint Barton had already started serving their sentences (in different prisons), along with Scott Lang. According to Hope, he’d at least managed to speak to his ex-wife and daughter, though neither was very happy with him. Barton’s ex-wife, on the other hand, had taken the kids and washed her hands of him.

Wanda Maximoff would soon be deported to Sokovia, where she would be executed for her crimes. When she’d heard the verdict, she had lost what little reason she seemed to have left, and had spent several hours screaming threats into the emptiness of her cell. She had cried and tried to take the collar off by stabbing at it with a shard of broken mirror until Friday had sedated her. No one wanted to even imagine what she would have done if she had managed to get it off. Her chances were well and truly over now. As far as Howard was concerned, she deserved it. _Good riddance_.

Natasha Romanoff was still at large, but she’d be caught eventually. The remnants of SHIELD were keeping an eye out for her, and so was Friday. She wouldn’t be able to stay hidden for much longer, and she had no one to turn to. Even her old contacts would be wary of her now. Hell, some of them might actually try to get some money by selling her out. Howard hoped he’d get the chance to talk to her before she ended up in prison (or maybe dead), the back-stabbing bitch.

Former King T’Challa was in hot water with the UN, and his poor sister was having a hell of a time keeping that from spilling over to Wakanda. Howard wasn’t sorry at all. The man had left his son to die in order to protect a murderer, and then, to make matters worse, decided to harbor terrorists instead of turning them in to answer for their crimes. The people of Wakanda were definitely not happy – aside from losing the throne, he’d also lost the title of Black Panther, at least for time being. Word was it that he might get it back if he proved himself _worthy_.

Barnes’s fate was still undecided. For now he’d remain in the UN facility undergoing psych treatment before facing trial. It was unlikely that he would be convicted for the actions of the Winter Soldier, as there was ample evidence that he had not been in control of himself and did not choose to do any of those things of his own free will. Still, Howard wasn’t sure how he felt about it. The Winter Soldier wasn’t _gone_ , not while the triggers were still on Barnes’s mind, and there was a part of Howard that was terrified he would one day show up to finish the job. It was a silly fear perhaps – it wasn’t like the Winter Soldier even knew Howard was back among the living, or that he’d be able to get into the Tower with Friday and the Avengers around – yet fear was rarely rational. Howard could not think of the man as Bucky Barnes, the soldier he’d met in the war, anymore; only as his killer.

Therapy had been helpful so far, for both him and Maria. It had taken Howard some time to get over his distrust of the whole thing and to learn to talk about his feelings – it wasn’t something a man was supposed to do, or so he’d been taught. It _was_ good to rant, though. He didn’t even have to make sense. There were days in which that was all he did in the session: rant. Other days they talked about ways he could focus on letting go of his anger and grief. Now that it was all finished, Howard thought it would be easier to do that. To move on, as Tony had said many times. All of them. Finally.

A sound from behind called his attention and he saw his wife coming towards him. She was dressed in a very flattering black suit, with only a discreet pair of pearl earrings as jewelry. Howard was reminded of the first time he’d met her, at some society party ages ago. She had not been the most beautiful woman there (or the best dressed), but she had caught his attention anyway. It’d been the way she walked, the way she held herself, the confidence and strength that had been obvious to anyone with eyes.

“Are you going now?” he asked. She had already had her little chat with Wilson and Barton. The only ExVengers left now were Steve and Maximoff (well, there was technically Lang, but he hardly counted).

“Yes.”

Howard had watched her every time, before Friday had erased the encounters from her records (at least, the ones accessible to anyone but her and Tony). It had been immensely satisfying. Howard had had his chance to confront the ExVengers, it was only fair that Maria did too. Tony was her son as much as his. Maximoff and Steve would be metaphorically bleeding by the time she was done with him.

Yeah, they were finished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who helped me with thoughts and links on the question of whether or not to have Steve testify. I decided to keep the story as it is, with him *not* testifying, but I'll probably do an alternate take chapter on the DVD extras sequel with it (because I can't resist roasting him a bit more).
> 
> Wanda's fate was always death in my mind. She's too dangerous and too volatile to be safe. Plus her crimes are too horrible and numerous. Even though we didn't get into the 'she manipulated Tony into building Ultron' here, the fact that she willingly helped him and was therefore partly responsible for the tragedy in Sokovia (not to mention directly responsible for Johannesburg) was enough. 
> 
> Thanks so much for the support, kudos and comments. You guys are the best. See you Saturday for the final chapter.


	17. Finished

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, people. Final chapter. Thanks everyone who read, kudos'ed and commented. You guys are the best. :)

Pacing in the confines of her cell, Wanda tried to think of a way to get out, but nothing came to mind. Everyone had abandoned her – the world had abandoned her. She didn’t know what to do anymore. She’d been judged and condemned and no one cared in the slightest about what she’d been through; losing her parents, her home, the overhelming _need_ to do something to make it right, to make someone _pay_. Losing Pietro, her only friend and ally – the only one who had ever understood. And now she was alone and lost, her powers out of her reach; her only means of defending herself, of making herself heard (feared). Now she was the one who was scared, and she hated it.

Eventually she noticed that there was someone outside, a woman.

“Miss Maximoff,” the woman said, standing close to the glass and looking at Wanda with an expression of pure loathing.

The woman seemed familiar, but Wanda couldn’t remember from where. “Who are you?”

“My name is Maria Stark,” she said.

Wanda narrowed her eyes. Yes, she remembered now, from the video. “You should be dead.” Hadn’t Howard Stark shown up to talk to them ages ago? Why did Stark get to have his parents back while Wanda was still alone? It wasn’t fair. They should all die, every single one of them. If Wanda could only get her powers back, she would obliterate all Starks from the world. They all deserved to die. Why should she be the only one to suffer loss?

“I’m not. You, however, _will_ be soon.”

A shiver went down Wanda’s spine at the coldness of the woman’s voice. She knew what the court had said, that she was to die, but she didn’t want to believe it. She wanted to be brave and fearless instead, to not let anyone see her vulnerable. “Are you threatening me?”

“No. I have no need to threaten you, Miss Maximoff. I’m merely informing you of your fate, which you already know. As we speak, the Accords Panel is meeting with representatives of Sokovia to decide the matter of your deportation and execution. Did you really think there would be any other outcome once the world found out about everything you did? About how you helped Ultron?”

“Ultron was Stark’s doing!”

“You dare blame my son for what _you_ did, you _worthless bitch_?” Maria stepped forward and banged her hand against the glass, hatred blazing in her eyes. Wanda jumped back in fear. “You stupid little piece of shit. Ultron was _your_ doing. The destruction of Sokovia is on _you_. Your brother died because of _you_ , may he rot in hell! Johannesburg is on _you_! Two dead and 24 injured because of _you_. 32 more deaths in Lagos, 20 in Uganda, one in the Raft. All because of you, you murdering bitch. And there’s still what you did for Hydra too. The people you used your powers on to torture and twist to Hydra’s cause. You are a _monster_. And monsters need to be put to death, Miss Maximoff, because they will never stop, never change. Since no one knows how to remove your powers – and frankly, it probably wouldn’t matter even if they did –, the only solution to make sure you can never hurt anyone again is to kill you. So you will die for your crimes, Miss Maximoff, and the world will rejoice and breathe easier once you are nothing but _ashes_. Sokovia will _cheer_ at your death, people will party and sing on the streets. _Ding dong the witch is dead_ ,” she mock-sang with a satisfied smile. “You will pay for what you did to my son and the world. You will pay for every death, every injury. For everything _you_ did.”

Wanda stared, heart thundering in her chest, palms damp with sweat. She didn’t need her powers to know that this woman despised her.

“I didn’t–”

“You hurt my _son_ and blamed him for _your_ actions. For that, I could kill you myself.” She stepped back and spread her arms. “But I won’t have to. I will just sit back and watch all of you bastards fall, on by one, and get exactly what you deserve. Tony didn’t have anything to you with your personal tragedy, Miss Maximoff, which you might have realized if you had two brain cells to rub together. He was innocent and you didn’t care, didn’t _think_ , either because you are too stupid or too psychotic. You, on the other hand, are _not_ innocent. Not a single soul on this planet thinks so. There are children who lost their parents because of you, parents who lost their children, people who lost their siblings, their friends. No one came to your defense, and no one will. No one even dreamed of helping you. You are _finished_. Good bye, Miss Maximoff. I hope you burn in hell.”

Maria Stark turned and walked away. Wanda looked around at her cell, alone and scared. _No one will save you_. She was going to die. There would be no escape, no salvation. She was going to die. And she was scared. Now that death was staring her in the face, she was terrified.

*****

The other cells were all empty. Wanda, the only one left, was in a cell downstairs, waiting for transfer just like Steve. She had been sentenced to death. Friday had shown him her trial, and it had been horrible. How could he have been so wrong about her? He had thought she was a good girl, that she’d simply been misguided into working Ultron. But no, she had not been misguided at all – she’s known _exactly_ what she was doing all along. She’d seemed so… innocent, but it was a lie. She wasn’t innocent, not when she joined Hydra, not when she joined Ultron, not when she turned teary eyes to him and told him she had only been doing her best. _Your judgment is askew_ , Tony had told him at the airport, and he’d been right all along, about a lot of things.

Steve had never known Wanda had participated in torture and killings for Hydra (because he had not asked), he had not known that she had stood by while Ultron murdered people (he hadn’t asked that either). He had not known what she’d done to Vision to escape the Compound (he hadn’t asked _anything_ ). People hated her as much as they hated him, it seemed. Maybe more. Steve had looked at Wanda and seen a desperate orphan just like him, and had blinded himself to anything else. He’d ignored the hurt she had _intentionally_ caused and put her on the team. _She deserves a second change_ , he’d said. Did she? And even if she did, had that been _his_ decision to make? _The safest hands were Rogers’s, right? No one else could possibly be good enough to make any decisions or do anything_. Rhodes had called him arrogant – as had others – and Steve had denied it. He had made decisions he thought were best, but they weren’t. They were just selfish.

It was no longer possible to deny that people hated him, that he’d been wrong. Since the verdict, he’d done nothing but stare at the walls of his cell, wondering how everything had gone so wrong; how _he’d_ been so wrong, so misguided.

It was real now. He was a criminal. A _convicted_ criminal.

He’d gotten a letter from Bucky this morning. A _goodbye_ letter. He had thought, for a split second, that it would be some kind of salvation, that Bucky was reaching back to him at last, that Steve had finally regained something from the past. Then he’d read it and all his hopes had crumbled to dust. Bucky wasn’t reaching out, he was saying goodbye, leaving Steve behind (again). It hurt. It all hurt now. He stared at the letter and its painful words.

_Steve,_

_I really don’t know what to say. I’ve been following the trial and… it’s hard. You’re not the man I remember (and I’m not the man you remember either). I guess we both got lost, in different ways; we’re both broken, maybe beyond repair._

_I’m angry at you. Angry that you did all those things and said you did it for me. Angry that you put a Hydra terrorist on your team without a thought to those she had hurt. Angry that you made_ me _be near that woman, without even telling me who and what she was. Do you have any idea how I feel now, knowing that I fought_ beside _a Hydra agent_ against _people who were trying to do the right thing? I never wanted any of that. I never wanted more blood on my hands, more corpses piling up. I wanted to be left alone. Why didn’t you leave me alone? Maybe none of this would have happened. Maybe you should have just killed me when you had the chance. Was all this really worth it? I told you once that I didn’t think I was worth all that. Well, now I know for sure that I’m not. None of this was worth it. Not for me, and not for your own pride, or whatever you were thinking about. You were always a reckless little punk, but this was too far, Steve. Much too far. You weren’t given powers so that you could crush everyone in your path, so you could be strong enough to knock down all the bullies you always saw – and some of those people back then weren’t bullies, Steve, just people who disagreed with you. I’m sorry I never spoke out on that, because I thought you needed it. You needed to feel like you were doing something. I guess I shouldn’t have let it go._

_I’m sad for all that’s happened. For what I did to Howard and his wife and son. They didn’t deserve it, Steve. Why did you keep that secret from Stark? It wasn’t right. You can’t keep saying it wasn’t me who did those things, Steve, because it was. It was me. My hands. My face. I didn’t want to do it, but I did, and it helps no one to pretend otherwise. I have to admit it, to come to terms with it somehow if I ever want to be whole again. I don’t know if I can, but I want to try. That means facing what I did, accepting it, apologizing, asking for forgiveness. Even if I don’t get it. Because people have a right to be hurt. Tony Stark had every right to want to hurt me, Steve. Can you imagine what you would have felt, what you would have done, if you knew someone had killed your mom? We should never have fought him. I wish to god I hadn’t. I wish to god I had simply turned myself in right away, before any more people died because of me. Sometimes I wish I’d never laid eyes on you._

_There’s nothing to be done about it now, though. It’s done. People are dead, injured. Because of me. Because of you. Because of your friends. The only thing we can do is apologize. Admit it. Accept the punishment we’re given and try never to hurt anyone ever again. I don’t know what’s going to happen to me, if I’ll ever be able to walk free again, if Hydra will ever be gone from my mind. But if I can help it, I won’t hurt anyone ever again._

_It hurts to think that my life ended, that Bucky’s life ended. But I have a chance for a new life. Maybe I’ll live it in a prison, but at least I will be my own person. My thoughts and actions will be my own. It’s not a happy thought, the idea of being in prison, but it is better than being Hydra’s weapon. And it’s better than being dead._

_I wanted to reach out to you one last time, to tell you how sorry I am for everything that happened. I’m sorry that you thought you had to do all that for me. But I can’t thank you for it, Steve. I can’t. I can’t pretend that it was okay. If it was a choice between me and the world, you should have chosen the world. I’m not worth it. No single person is worth more than the world. You should have known that._

_I don’t think we should communicate anymore. At least, not for a while. I think we both need time to figure out who we are now in this new time. I know you haven’t been here long, I can only imagine how confused you must have been. But the past is past. It’s gone, Steve, and it’s never coming back. We have to live with that, both of us. The world has moved on and we have to as well. No more clinging to the past. We have to find our places in the here and now. And we have to it away from each other, because right now, we aren’t good for each other._

_So this is goodbye, Steve. I don’t really know how to say it, but I know I need this. And I need you to listen to me this time. For me and for yourself._

_I’m sorry things ended this way. I really am. Goodbye._

_James._

There was nothing left for Steve now. It _hurt_.

Footsteps made him turn to the corridor warily, getting up from the bed to see who was there.

“Mr Rogers. Do you know who I am?”

It took Steve a few seconds to place the woman standing in front of his cell. “I…”

“My name is Maria Stark. I believe you know my husband and my son.”

Steve swallowed. He still didn’t know exactly how Howard had come back to life, but that didn’t seem all that important now. Steve remembered the woman in the video, the one Bucky – no, not Bucky, the Winter Soldier ( _Bucky_ , the letter had said – _James_ ) – had strangled. “Ma’am,” he said, voice small.

“Be quiet.” She had a commanding presence that reminded Steve of Peggy. She wasn’t strikingly beautiful like Peggy had been and there was nothing particularly remarkable about her, but Steve found his heart beating faster nevertheless. “I’m not interested in hearing anything you have to say. I am here to say something to _you_. I believe my husband has already made clear what he thinks about you, and as you can imagine, I share this feelings. You are a traitor. A despicable one at that.”

The words shouldn’t hurt as much – she was a stranger to him – but they did. Everything hurt. Every word, every thought, every move, every memory of the distant and recent past. The _present_ hurt. “Ma’am…” He didn’t know what to say. Again. Steve had never been good with words. Maybe that was why he’d always used his fists. _You’re a bully_.

“I am not a violent person, Mr Rogers, I never have been. I don’t believe in wishing harm to others. But looking at you now I find myself thinking rather violent thoughts. I find myself thinking that I could kill you, and I would not feel a shred of remorse in removing your vile presence from the face of this earth.” Her eyes bore holes into him, making him want to hide away in fear and shame. He could feel sweat on his face and hands. From inside his cell, he was completely powerless against her. Even though he still had his super strength, he found himself feeling weaker than ever.  He was alone, no one left to stand with him. He’d pushed everyone away. With lies, with betrayal, with thoughtlessness, with arrogance. With violence. “I could do it, you know. I could get a gun. I know how to fire one. You don’t get to be the wife of a weapons developer without learning some skills. Especially considering that my husband has always had enemies. I guess you would know all about that. I guess you would know all about the threats to my husband’s life. About his – our – murder.”

Steve flinched. “Bucky didn’t–” It was automatic by now, to deny Bucky’s guilt. But if Bucky himself was willing to admit it, what did it matter what Steve said? Was it even his place to say anything at all?

“I am aware that your friend was not himself, Mr Rogers, but that does not change the facts.” The images from the video played themselves in his head. It wasn’t Bucky. It _wasn’t_. Yet… Yes, it was. And in any case, whose fault it technically was didn’t change anything. Had he thought it did? _No one cares about the Winter Soldier_. Certainly not his victims. “I remember it, you know. I remember his hand around my throat, squeezing. I remember the fear and helplessness, the thought that I would die and leave my son alone. My son, who believed himself your friend, only to be mistreated and betrayed at every opportunity.” There was hatred and disgust in her eyes. She took a step forward. “So I could kill you, Mr Rogers. Put a bullet right between your eyes. I doubt even a super soldier could survive that. I really could.” She pulled a gun out of her purse and held it casually in her hand. “Friday would open the door if I asked her.”

The fear was getting stronger, her calm demeanor and the absolute conviction in her expression making it clear that she was very much capable of carrying out that threat. This woman he had never met hated him enough to actually kill him. Steve had had attempts on him life before, certainly, but nothing had ever felt this _personal._ It wasn’t Captain America, foil of villains and criminals, it was _Steve Rogers_ she wanted to obliterate from the world. Like other people had also done – they’d wanted the _death penalty_. He felt like little Stevie again, small and scared. “Ma’am.” His voice sounded hoarse even to his own ears. Not at all the voice of a hero. Because he wasn’t a hero. Not anymore. Maybe he’d never been. Just a criminal. _You’re just a guy that managed not to die when given an experimental serum_.

“I could. But I won’t. Do you know why, Mr Rogers?” She maintained eye contact the entire time, the force of her gaze keeping Steve frozen like a deer in headlights as she put the gun back in her purse. “Because death is too good for you. Because my son and all the people that you killed, hurt and betrayed deserve justice, and death is too easy. I want you to live, Mr Rogers. I want you to live with the knowledge of what you did: 60 dead because of your actions, 110 injured. Not to mention what your pet Hydra witch did – to my son and to the world. I want you to live with the knowledge of what you lost. Not just your freedom, but everything you believed in, starting with your own self-righteousness. I want you to know that Captain America is tainted forever, that kids will look at pictures of you and know you for the criminal and murderer you are. That you will never again be admired or looked up to, that you will never again be thought a hero. Because you aren’t. You never were. My son is the real hero. And now people know that. Now _you_ will know that. And live with it. Every day. For the rest of your miserable life.”

Every word was like a knife to the gut, twisting deeper and deeper until Steve felt like he couldn’t breathe anymore. Like he was back in his weak and frail (useless) body, unable to do something as simple and mundane as _breathe_. The walls were closing in, all his convictions and beliefs melting away into nothing. They had been slowly eroding for a long time now, ever since Howard Stark had shown up like a ghost from the past to point out all his mistakes. He’d clung to his own righteousness as long and as hard as he could, but it was always a losing battle. It had simply taken him a while to realize it. Everything he had ever wanted, all he’d fought so hard for, the strength and recognition he had always craved was gone. She was right, he’d lost everything. And it _hurt_. It fucking _hurt_.

She wasn’t done. “So I won’t kill you, Mr Rogers. Instead, I will watch you suffer. And be forgotten. Because in the end, Mr Rogers, you are _nothing_.”

 _Nothing. You are nothing_. It echoed in his head, each repetition louder than the one before. All his life he’d wanted to be someone important, someone who mattered, and now he was nothing.

Tears fell unbidden from his eyes and still her relentless stare wouldn’t leave him, like a hand that had reached inside his chest and was slowly crushing his heart.

Steve backed away, stumbling back and struggling not to drown in pain and agony. He heard her footsteps fading away as he curled into a ball and wept. What had he done? _Oh god, what have I done? What have I done?_

_I did it all wrong. I was wrong all along. I’m not… I’m not good._

_Good becomes great_ , Erskine had said, and Steve had kept it as a mantra in his mind this whole time. But there was another part to what he’d said, a part he had always ignored: _bad becomes worse_. Was he worse? Had he been worse all along? Like the Red Skull?

_Oh god, who am I?_

There was no one there to answer. He was alone. Truly alone. And it was his own fault.

*****

They were having a party of sorts, a celebration that the trials were over and the convicted ExVengers were either in prison or on their way there (and he tried not to think too much about Maximoff – too many mixed feelings there). There was relief and satisfaction in everyone’s faces knowing that it was truly over and they could all now move on with their lives.

Tony looked around at his friends and family as they all smiled and laughed together. Peter had been invited, and to Tony’s surprise, his aunt had actually allowed him to come (and tagged along). May and Peter Parker were currently talking to his mom and Bruce. Maria looked more relaxed than she’d been in a while, not surprisingly. Tony smiled to himself as he watched them – he was glad to see the kid again, he’d missed him. Hope and Pepper were deep in a business discussion with Howard. Happy and Rhodey were goofing off together while Vision spoke to Strange about magic.

Tony couldn’t help comparing this occasion with that awful party with the old Avengers years before. While on the surface it had seemed fine – laughing and playing around with that stupid hammer – underneath it had been nothing but lies and deceit. Those people had never been his friends, they had never cared about him. Steve (and Natasha) had been sitting on the knowledge of what had happened to his parents, using his money and resources to search for his precious Bucky. And at the first sign of trouble they had blamed and dismissed him, at the first disagreement had gone straight to violence and fuck the world (and him). This, right now, however, was a _real_ team, Tony thought. People who liked and respected each other, a _real_ family, not that bullshit Steve had talked about in that stupid letter. These, right here, were the people he could trust to have his back and listen to him (and to the world).

There was no telling what the future would bring, but Tony now was sure that, whatever happened, he would be all right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this story is over, but the not the series. The next story will probably be a DVD Extras type of thing, with the stuff that didn’t get in this one for some reason. I have some ideas already, but feel free to make suggestions about what you’d like to see. I also have some oneshots planned dealing with various stuff.
> 
> Once again, many thanks for your support.


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